The Final Death Defying Act
by For You Blue
Summary: A supernatural tale set in the past and told pre-Flashpoint. Dick Grayson tells Damian Wayne of a mysterious chapter from his past, involving a visit to the Haly's Circus and a strange encounter from beyond the grave.DickxBabs, Tim, Damian, Bruce.-Updated: Chapter 5 is now up-
1. Prologue

**The Final Death-Defying Act**

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><p><em>Once I was happy, but now I'm forlorn,<br>Like an old coat that is tattered and torn,  
>Left on this wide world to fret and to mourn,<br>Betrayed by a boy when in his teens._

_The boy that I loved he was handsome,  
>I tried all I knew him to please,<br>But I could not please him one quarter so well,  
>That man on the flying trapeze. <em>(Traditional.)

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><p><strong>~Prologue~<strong>

-_Sometime before Bruce Wayne's return from the past and the events of Flashpoint…_-

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><p><strong>-<strong>_**T**__t_- Grayson," the tall, almost eleven-year-old boy voiced with derision, glaring up at his adopted brother with his impenetrable, steel-blue gaze. His remarkable eyes were over-shadowed and looked out of place in his naturally tanned, demi-middle-eastern features.

"You consider bringing me _here_ as a _treat_? The zoo, at least, was an attempt at being intellectually stimulating, this," the dark haired boy glared around at their surroundings. "This outdated, melodramatic entertainment is quaint for beings of low-brow values; or the aged longing to attend these sorts of venues for nostalgic reasons."

Long used to the derisive, (half-intendedly so,) manner of his youngest adopted brother, Richard 'Dick' Grayson raised an eyebrow as his first response, then added, "We're not here to cater to _your _ideas of entertainment, Damian, low-brow or otherwise. And need I remind you that I own this place, kid. I don't consider it outdated _or_ melodramatic—"

"_You_ believe that because you_ are_ one of the aged who get a nostalgic thrill by being here, Grayson." Damian Wayne interrupted, removing one of his hands from its previously jammed position in the front pockets of his hooded jacket, and waving his aforementioned hand around at the busy, crowded milieu.

"That and you're a circus gypsy. This is basically your idea of investing in a retirement plan." The biological son of billionaire Bruce Wayne further pointed out with a unimpressed sniff.

Fighting the urge to either roll his eyes or double over laughing, Dick put a hand on Damian's shoulder and halted the assassin-trained boy. "You could be right, squirt. But, like I said, I brought you to my circus for training, not to buy you funnel cakes and rides on the Ferris Wheel."

Grayson caught sight of a familiar face and called out: "Harry Haly, you old devil!"

An aged man in a warn fedora halted his argument with the mixed-crowd of performers and workers. He glanced curiously over his equally worn coat-covered shoulder, before letting out an amused burst of laughter and walked towards Dick, arms outstretched.

"Dickie Grayson, you young devil! Come here, son!"

Dick happily swooped up his family's former employer, and his current circus manager, into a back slapping hug, "It's good to see you, Har," he said sincerely, pulling back Haly and the older man looked up at him with an emotional smile.

"Doubly that for any chance I get to see you, Dickie. You look good, kid, filled out a bit more. Every time I see you you look more like your Dad," Harry glanced aside at the solemn, almost glaring, dark haired child by Dick's side.

"Fun night's past finally caught up with you, Dickie? Or are you making some baby-sitting money on the side, kiddo?"

Grayson chuckled and pulled back from Harry, motioning down at the Grandson of Ra's Al Gul, "Neither. This is my brother Damian Wayne. Damian this is Mr Haly," he introduced, "a very old friend."

Harry offered his hand and Damian eyed him again, before removing his hands from his jacket pockets and taking the offered hand, "Old enough to have held your hands when you took your first steps; and remember your first word being: _Rube_, Dickie, and the second word being: _Har_—ouch!" Harry removed his hand from Damian's and winced.

"Wowsers! That's quite a grip you've got there, son." The circus manager flexed his fingers with a grunt, "You take boxing or martial arts?"

Damian pursed his lips, and automatically Dick could tell his partner was annoyed with having to carry out a conversation with someone who called him 'son'. "Something like that, Mr Haly," he glanced up at his adopted brother.

"Does this training you brought me here for include improving my social skills with the elderly, Grayson?"

Dick sighed heavily and rubbed his brow, "It _wouldn't_ hurt, but you can go wonder for a minute, Damian, and keep yourself amused...but not too much so!" He added poignantly, pointing for emphasis.

Damian shrugged and left the two men to their own devises, walking over to the food stalls and eying off the array of foodstuffs with a blank expression.

Dick smiled apologetically down at Harry, "Something I have to do on a consistent basis is say sorry for him, or _about_ him."

Harry raised his brow sardonically, "Oh no, _charming_ boy. Posh accent. He's your adopted father's biological son? Silver-spoon-in-mouth kids," Pop added when Richard nodded in assent, "you're not like the rest of them toff-nosed crowd though, Dickie. You were born to humble-folk, and you grew-up normal."

Dick shrugged, "Damian lived with his mother for the first ten years of his life in...in the middle-east, primarily. She was a perfectionist and her upbringing of the boy was hardly typical, he never had any kids his own age to keep him grounded, either." Grayson revealed, folding his arms.

"Bruce is...in Bali at the present moment; and Damian's mother has abandoned the kid. So I'm the only family around to raise Damian and try to fill in that gap of parental figure—"

"It smells like processed grease and manure everywhere!" Damian's not so distant exclamation signalled his return, and Dick and Pop looked over at the approaching boy.

Damian was holding a green candy apple, that he was looking down at distrustfully.

"The woman over there gave me this when I asked for something without grease or oil. I assume that, as it is called a 'candy-apple,' there _is_ a piece of fruit hidden somewhere in there?"

Dick swore old Harry was either going to keel over from laughter, or suffer a stroke from the expression of wry seriousness in his adopted brother's plain expression. Grayson put his hand on Damian's shoulder and turned the boy in the direction of the big-top.

"Come on, Astroboy 2000, let's beat it before you do any more harm to _human_ people. See-ya Har."

Damian glanced over his shoulder as they walked away, "What harm did I do? It was a litigable query about an item of food-stuffs, purchased from a vendor who is in your employ. So Mr Haly should be able to answer if this 'candy-apple' has any nutritional benefit, or if it is merely empty sugar."

Dick ran his hand through his hair, and sighed deeply, "How about you take my advice and do the normal thing a child your age would do and just eat it?" He suggested.

Damian shrugged and took a nibble from the candy-apple.

"There, see? It didn't kill you to act like a sugar-ridden American child for a change, instead of a Middle-Eastern assassin, did it?"

Damian grunted in reply and pulled away his candy-apple from his sticky lips, "Don't patronize me, Grayson," he replied promptly. Dick walked over to the big-top entrance and waved Damian forward in response.

The current Robin walked ahead of his partner and gazed up and around the striking, sunlit arena encased in the huge striped tent. "It's a lot more impressive inside," Wayne admitted grudgingly, taking another bite of his candy-apple. "It still smells, though."

Dick ruffled Damian's short-cut hair and looked out into the centre ring, where the elephant trainer was putting the Haly's elephants through their paces, including the oldest, the Indian Jumbalina and the youngest, (Dick's own elephant,) the African Zitka.

Zitka's trunk suddenly rose up in the air and she let out a questioning beat, before she turned her massive head in their direction. Letting out a joyful trumpet, the fully-grown African elephant stepped off of her platform and went all but rushing towards the current 'Dynamic-Duo.'

"Whoa, Zitka!" The trainer, Morris Tanner, yelled out, then turned to see who the elephant was lumbering towards and laughed, "Oh I see, I'm still second banana to your owner!"

Damian darted behind Dick with a look of fright, glaring up at his adopted brother who was laughing and had his arms spread open, "Are you insane, Grayson?!"

"What do you mean insane? Zitka's my oldest friend," Dick replied, grinning as the hulking, mass swaying of grey flesh halted, as the elephant stopped a few feet away; her massive shadow engulfing the two vigilante crime-fighters.

"There's my girl…whoa!" Grayson exclaimed as Zitka wrapped her trunk around his middle and lifted him off the ground, "Woo! I guess this is still easy for you, huh?"

Damian watched with disbelief as Zitka placed her owner on her shoulders and flapped her ears happily, as Dick rubbed the top of her head lovingly.

"You are a freak, Grayson. Who are you? Tarzan of the Elephants?"

Grayson gave Zitka's huge head a hug and shrugged down at his adopted brother as he straddled the huge animal, "Other people had a schnauzer as a first pet, I have a African elephant. Zitka, hup," Dick pointed down at Damian, who went pale with horror.

"Oh no, no, no–ahhh!" Damian yelped in complaint, dropping his candy-apple as he attempted to doge the powerful trunk of Zitka, who easily managed to wrap her trunk around the demi-middle-eastern boy's skinny waist; and hoisted him up off the sawdust covered ground.

Dick moved further forward as his elephant dutifully dropped Damian on her shoulders behind his guardian, and the boy glared up at Dick.

"I'm going to make you pay for this Grayson…crap, it smells awful up here!" The youngest Wayne complained, holding his nose.

"Zitka! Tet-tet, hup-hup!" Dick nudged the elephant with his knees and Zitka let out a happy noise and began to lumber forward. Damian let out a series of swears –half in Arabic– as he flung his arms around his adopted brother's waist, in an effort not to topple off.

Dick glanced over his shoulder, "Zitka used to carry me everywhere. Sometimes we used to ride into the towns we were staying in," he smiled in remembrance. "I used to do handstands and flips on and off her back, freaking out and awing people on the street–"

Damian rolled his eyes, "I would make a jibe about a 'perfectly normal childhood,' but I'm not one to judge," he shook his head. "Still, I can't believe your parents let you run around like that."

Grayson smiled sadly and turned back around, "My parents encouraged me to push my limits and learn from my mistakes. It was those lessons that helped me later with your dad, Damian. Bruce's lessons in discipline were not so different from my own father's…just executed differently."

The boy furrowed his brow, "I often wonder about that, my father had grown up alone with only Alfred. It must have been difficult to suddenly have a boy my age in his care," Damian mentioned thoughtfully. "How did you deal with it, really?"

Dick folded his arms, "Patience, mostly. I knew your dad was trying, and Alfred has always been awesome and supportive, he was always there for comfort and advice as I grew," he said with a raised brow.

"I would have given anything for a little brother or sister for company in that huge manor though. I had the Titans, but you have no idea how great it's been having Tim and you for brothers," Grayson admitted with a grin back at his adopted brother.

Damian smirked, "I believe I'm almost willing to share the sentiment, I believe you to be a tolerable sibling. Drake I am not entirely convinced of. Cassandra I don't know…and the less said about Todd–"

Dick sighed as he intervened, "You may think you know everything about Jason and Tim, kid, but you don't–"

Damian's dark-blue eyes flashed, "Oh but I do. Just as I know pretty much everything about you, Grayson. My Mother insisted on me being very informed about my 'competition'," he revealed. "Although, she told me to regard you as the biggest threat, despite Drake being more like my father and more agreeable towards him. _You_ would always be his favourite and his proudest achievement."

Dick frowned and kicked Zitka's sides with his heels, "Halt, Zitka!" He ordered firmly and the elephant came to a lumbering stop; her bulk swaying from side-to-side, as her master turned around to look firmly down at his adopted brother.

"Damian, I was made Bruce's ward when I was younger than you are. I worked side-by-side with him for the next ten years of my life. I was proud to be his partner. But what I wanted most of all was to be his son, which I was, really, in everything but name." Dick exhaled slowly and pushed his left hand through his lanky, black bangs.

"When Bruce adopted Jason only a few months after he took him in, I pretended it didn't hurt, but it did," Grayson admitted, cocking his head to the side he gave a small smile in repose to the stoic expression on Damian's face. "Do you know what I'm going to say next?"

The boy frowned, "It's what kept you and father distant for so many years. You grew to manhood and my father had trouble letting you go, so you made the break and he blamed himself, my father believed that you blamed _him_ also." Damian folded his hands together, narrowing his eyes.

"In addition, my father was always worried that you didn't want to look at him as a parent, because you didn't want him to replace your own father." Damian raised an eyebrow, and Dick smiled indulgently.

Damian was far too smart and wise for his age, but considering his parents, lineage and upbringing, Dick had not been surprised, (from the moment he'd met Bruce's biological child,) by anything his adopted brother said or did.

"You're right, but that's not entirely it," Dick folded his arms. "I thought Bruce didn't care, it's true. But I spent all my childhood and teenage years trying to be everything I though Bruce wanted me to be, then I've spent my adulthood trying to run away from being like him."

Damian smiled slowly as he understood, "Now you _are_ him."

Dick nodded, "In a way. But Bruce always intended that I take over the mission, but requested that I didn't become Batman," he explained, "I had always thought I _would_ become Batman one day. I don't know when that changed. I never told Bruce…I only ever admitted it to Clark under duress."

"Well that only refutes my point that he was proud of you, who you became by becoming Nightwing," Damian reasoned, "in honesty, my mother told me it was my destiny to be Batman now; but I believe the honour should always be yours first, as you were the first squire," he folded his arms across his small chest.

"In addition, I believe that I am not even close to being ready for the task as I am a child still. Thus I have much to learn and be taught."

Grayson put his hand on Damian's shoulder, "And that is the most important step in succeeding, by admitting you need to learn how to get there first," he smiled, _If this was Tim I could give him a hug at a moment like this, but I don't think my Robin would appreciate that_.

Damian nodded, "And I put my trust in your teachings, Grayson. You are the next best thing to my father as a teacher–almost," he said firmly, ruining the moment and making his mentor laugh.

"I'm glad you think so," Dick pointed up at where the cables were strung between the High Trapeze platforms. "Race you to the top of the left platform?" He questioned, preforming a back flip off of Zitka's back before Damian could even react.

"Hey! That's not fair!" The boy shouted out, leaping off after his partner and chasing after Dick, who was already swinging up on the cables, laughing at Damian as he furiously swung up after his adopted brother.

The natural acrobatics of Grayson always drew a crowd at _Haly's;_ and the crew were also quick to note how well the dark-haired boy accompanying their favourite son, was only a pace or two behind Dick.

Preforming an effortless one handed landing onto the left platform, Dick smiled as Damian landed with both feet firmly on the platform, glaring up at him as Dick bowed and waved to his applauding circus family.

"I can't believe I have a circus gypsy for a mentor," the dignified biological son of Bruce Wayne sniffed, watching as Dick crossed his legs Turkish style and motioned for Damian to sit across from him. The boy sighed heavily as he sat down on the wooden boards.

"What wisdom are you going to grace me with next, Grayson? How best to ride a unicycle in oversized, striped trousers?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Dick's eyes twinkled at Damian's solemn expression despite his scathing wit, "Maybe later. I want to tell you a story first, about my parents. But it's not exactly set back when I was a child."

Damian lent forward, "You mean it's set back before you were born?"

Dick knew Damian's love of history and stories, it came from his middle-eastern bloodline; and it was one of the things they had in common, with Dick's father being Romanian and his ancestors having very similar traditions.

"No. It was only a few years ago–"

"Grayson, Halloween was a few days ago, it's a bit late for a ghost story," Damian voiced, "and after what we went through with the Black Lanterns and that clone of my Father, I don't feel like–"

Dick held up his hand, "I promise it's a good story. Will you let me tell it?"

Damian's dark blue eyes narrowed and the boy sighed heavily as he waved his hand, "Proceed then Grayson," he sounded just like a miniature of his Grandfather Ra's.

Dick rested his hands on his knees as he looked up at the dome of the circus tent. "It was about four years ago in early summer. I'd just moved to Büldhaven and I still had a strained relationship with Bruce. However, Bruce was in an expansion meeting in Metropolis and Haly's was in Philadelphia; and I knew Bruce would have Tim studying in that big ol' mansion, so I decided to spring my little brother–"

"-tt-"

Grayson smirked, "My _only_ little brother at the time from his involuntary confinement…"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

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><p><em><strong>~Four Years Previously...~<strong>_

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><p><strong>R<strong>ichard John Grayson, better known as Dick to his friends, (and his dual role as a vigilante-hero, under the secret identity of Nightwing, to the majority of the world.) had sneaked into Wayne Manor through the underground tunnels; making his way through his former guardian's…well…dim, dark, bat filled cave.

As he passed through the halls of the Gothic manor, and strolled past the open-doors leading to the kitchen, Dick attempted to slip past the lone occupant of the kitchen, Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler.

Pennyworth was a surrogate father to Bruce Wayne (the current owner of Wayne Manor,) and, as Grayson jokingly referred to him, 'mother' of the bat-brats.

Dick's attempt to sneak past was futile, conversely, because even though he had his back turned and his attention apparently preoccupied with mopping, Pennyworth cleared his throat loudly and called out: "Oh Master Richard? Will you be staying for lunch?"

Stopping in his tracks, Dick smiled broadly and stuck his handsome, dark-haired head around the side of the entrance to the kitchen. "That would be nice, Alfie. But I'm actually here to spring the kid from his involuntary confinement," he revealed, moving into the kitchen-entrance, folding his arms across his broad chest and leaning against the doorframe.

Alfred smiled under his thin, perfectly groomed, greying moustache and glanced over his shoulder at his former charge. "And does Master Bruce know of this 'springing,' Master Richard?" The Englishman queried nonchalantly, putting the mop back in its bucket and turning around fully to face Dick, wiping his hands dry on his white apron.

Grayson flashed his endearing, perfect white smile he could use in practically any scenario to completely charm people with... though primarily it worked better on those who hadn't had a hand in raising him; or hadn't known the mischievous, half-Romany-gypsy since he was knee-high to the ground.

Or those that cursed the 'bird-brat' on a daily basis. (Almost as much as they did Dick's former guardian and partner.)

"Of course _he_ wouldn't. Such is the nature of 'springing' someone," Alfred answered his own question and walked over to Dick, examining the twenty-four-year-old, former 'boy-wonder' with a cynical raise of his eyebrow. "And does this little trip involve anything dangerous, let's say requiring of my simple first-aid, or is there a strong possibly of a trip to the emergency department?"

Dick burst out laughing and put his left hand on Alfred's slim shoulder, "There's nothing _simple_ about your first-aid, Alfred; and no," he ran his free hand through his below ear-length hair. "I was thinking something along the lines of a trip to the circus."

Alfred smiled and removed Dick's hand from his shoulder as he walked back over to the mop and bucket, propped up against the black-marble benched island.

"Well I've no doubt Master Timothy will be delighted by the prospect. On the other hand, without a doubt, Master Bruce will _not _be pleased with you pulling Master Timothy away from his studies on Kalaripayattu forms," Alfred mentioned dryly, turning around and picking back up the mop.

"But he will not hear of this little 'fleeing the nest' from me when he returns from Metropolis."

Dick patted Alfred's shoulder, "You're a gem Pennyworth, we don't deserve you," he thanked his friend sincerely as he moved to depart the kitchen, and Alfred tutted as he wrung out the mop.

"_Quite_, young sir. And another thing before you leave, Master Richard?" Alfred turned around and Dick halted. "Your jacket is rumpled, no-doubt you're hiding holes in that worn t-shirt of yours underneath it; your jeans are in just as bad condition as your jacket and you're far too thin under those muscles." He lent his hands on the top of the mop handle and stared poignantly at his Master's former ward.

"You be honest with me, young man, you've been eating practically nothing but takeaway food and cereal for _all_ your meals while you've been holed up in Büldhaven, haven't you?"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, and looked decidedly sheepish. _Good old Mommy Pennyworth_...

"Well...I don't exactly have time to do serious grocery shopping; _and_ I don't have anyone to clean up after me, and make sure I eat all my vegetables, like you do for Bruce—"

"Not the point," Alfred interrupted, trying to hide a smile at the words of Dick. "You still have a home here, no matter what a certain, overtly stubborn, owner of this estate ever says to you. You're just as much _my_ son as his; and I _insist_ you come here at least once a week for dinner, twice if Master Bruce is away or Master Timothy is staying here."

Grayson held up his hands in mock surrender, "All right, I promise, I promise," he assured the determined looking Alfred, who's face once again turned benign and the butler turned away, continuing with his mopping.

"Good then. Have fun, and try to have the boy back before dawn, and in one piece," Pennyworth dismissed.

Dick repressed a chuckle at Alfred's casual dismissal and continued on his exit out the door.

"If you do get back before ten, Master Richard, I'll have tea prepared and you can tell me what is going on between you and Miss Gordon." Alfred called out after him.

Dick waved his hand as he slipped out the entrance, "In that case I'll make sure to bring Timmy back long after ten then," he replied, hearing Alfred's amused chuckling as his former co-charge darted off in the direction of the library.

-xxx-

"Hmm." Timothy Drake stood poised up on top of the solid, deep mahogany desk. The current caped-crusader's Robin was dressed in loose fitting, blue harem style pants and a simple khaki coloured singlet; his gaze was currently affixed down at a thick book featuring detailed sketches.

"_Paada chakram: _round kick- inside to outside," Drake attempted this move and easily accomplished it. Smiling a little to himself, the dark haired youth looked down again, narrowing his grey-blue eyes.

"_Paada Bhramanam_: round kick-outside to inside."

Again Tim executed this move and laughed to himself. "Huh, not too complicated after all," he squatted down next to the book and picked it up. Resting the heavy book on his lap, the current 'boy-wonder,' flipped through the pages, "Maybe I'll skip ahead a little..."

"And what if tall, dark and scary asks you what _soochi kaal _is, kid?" A still young, but deep and jovial, voice interrupted Tim's musings, and the boy nearly fell off the table.

As he scrambling to grab the heavy book on _Kalaripayattu,_ that had slid off his lap when he'd jumped in surprise, Tim then turned his attention over to the owner of the voice, (who was already making his way over from the main entrance to the library.)

A wide smile crept over Tim's face and he waved enthusiastically in greeting, "Dick! What are you doing here?" He inquired, happy to see his predecessor, (and practically idol from when he was a little more than a toddler.)

Dick had his hands jammed in the front pockets of his red bomber jacket, (a left over from his college days,) he removed his right hand and thumbed outside the window. "It's summer, the weather is perfect, my circus happens to be in town, and I heard that Bruce has you trapped in the library? It's an outrage so..."

Tim watched as the former acrobat leapt up on the desk and easily landed into a one-handed hand-stand, grinning down at Drake.

"So, original boy-wonder?"

Dick winked, "..._so, _current boy-wonder, I decided to spring you from your involuntarily confinement," he flipped off the desk and folded his arms across his chest, "and take you to Haly's for the day. I thought it was the least I could do for my sort-of-little-brother."

Tim blinked, "Oh...it's not helping Miranda clean out the animal cages again, is it?" He held his nose in disgust and Grayson laughed and ruffled Tim's short black hair. "Hey!"

"Uh uh, it's a surprise and I promise it has absolutely nothing to do with mucking out cages. You're just gunna have to trust me, 'kay?" Dick questioned, and Drake happily slammed shut the heavy book on his lap in response.

"Don't have to ask me twice. We taking your bike?" Tim invoked, hopping off the desk in a fluid motion and tossing the book back onto the desk as he sided up to Dick.

Richard put an arm around Tim's shoulders as he they walked out of the library. "My favourite way to travel. We'll stop by your room so you can pick up your Robin costume and your helmet…and I swear I smelt Alfred baking something when I was in the kitchen earlier, so I think it's a good plan to grab some of whatever it is on our way out too."

Tim grinned, _I wish Dick was around more often when I'm cooped up here, he's like having a big brother...well I guess he is, practically_. "They're raisin tea cakes. Alfred said he had a feeling you'd be popping around while Bruce was out," he revealed.

Dick sighed at the boy's revelation, using his free hand to scratch the side of his head. "Alfred knows me too well. Look Tim, it has nothing to do with you, but Bruce and I—"

Drake held up his hand, "Yeah, I think we've had this talk before, Dick, strained relationships and all that. I'll live quite happily not hearing another word about it. As always, it's between you and him," he folded his arms across his chest and winked up at Dick.

"So, met any babes lately?"

"Ha!" Dick gave Tim a noogie and the boy let out a cross between a laugh and a yelp as they made their way down the dark, Gothic halls of the Wayne Manor. "None that I can tell you about at your age, tenderfoot. I'll tell you about them in a few years or so."

-xxx-

The customized, black with blue detailing _Ducati_ pulled and parked behind the striped, old-fashioned circus tent.

Assembled behind the tent in the grounds were the performers trailers; and a few of the circus performers themselves who waved animatedly at the driver and passenger as the _Ducati_ halted, recognising the custom motorcycle right away.

The smaller of the two occupants of the bike jumped off and pulled off his red helmet with yellow embellishments. Shaking out his dark brown hair, Tim looked around and returned the waving of the performers who were approaching them.

Removing his own helmet while still straddling his motorcycle, Grayson closed his eyes and took a deep inhale of the familiar, forever nostalgic combination of scents that would eternally remind him of his childhood home.

The smell of sawdust mixed with hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy and various animals, was as comforting to him at times as apple-pie was to a homecoming soldier...and sometimes as emotionally conflicting.

Shaking his hair back into place with his left hand, Dick tossed his helmet onto the right handle-bar and grinned over at one of the approaching performers, the animal tamer, Miranda Kane; who opened up her arms as Grayson dismounted the bike and swept her up into a hug.

"Well this is a nice welcome," Dick mentioned in surprise, setting down the curvy brunette with a raised eyebrow. "Last time you weren't so warm to me," he looked down at Miranda and winked, "it's the hair, right? Less length, more product?"

Miranda put a hand on her right, cream breeches covered hip and chuckled, "Well, Dickie, you do look less like a ancient samurai, and twice as gorgeous as the last time we met, but no," she waved her finger under his nose.

"I know you _too_ well to ever get wrapped up in those fantastic arms of yours."

Tim raised his hand, "How about in mine, Miss Kane?"

Miranda raised a thin eyebrow with a wide smile, "Maybe in a few years, Mr Drake. Are you here to build up those arms by cleaning out Miss Peaches' cage again for me?" She questioned with a devilish wink in Dick's direction, as the rest of the gathered performers chuckled at the expression on Tim's face.

Drake waved his hands quickly to dismiss the idea, "Oh no, no...not that I didn't enjoy mucking out the cage of a 300 pound gorilla, Miss Kane, but Dick needs me to help him out on the trapeze."

Harry Haly tilted the brim of his faded hat with a chuckle, and nudged Tim's chin, "That's 'traps' Mr Drake, if you're going to be hanging around with one of us out here, you gotta get down the lingo," he walked over and pulled Dick into a one armed hug.

"The big-top's all yours for the next four hours, Mr Grayson. Perks of being the owner an' all."

Dick laughed and scratched the back of his head, "Even after years it's hard to get used to that fact. Maybe I should grown a moustache like yours, Har. Do you think it'll make me look more like an authoritarian?" He teased the aging man, who laughed loudly and patted Grayson's chest.

"You talk almost fancier than that ol' English butler of your guardian now days, Dickie," Harry looked up at Dick fondly. "Your parents would be so proud of you, kid," he mused, squeezing Dick's shoulder before motioning to the performers and clearing his throat of emotion.

"Well let's get back to setting up for tonight you layabouts." Danny Poteet called out to cover for Har, winking at Dick as he ushered the crowd back to work, "Mr Boss-man's gotta a right to work the traps with the kid-rube, without you lot gawking and gettin' all mushy and awed."

The part-Native American husband and wife knife-throwing duo, Connie and Pete, came over to say hi to Dick as the other performers dispersed. Connie gave Grayson a kiss on the cheek and gave the bemused Tim a kiss on the forehead; while Pete ruffled Tim's hair and jokingly did the same to Dick's, the latter laughing in response and pushing away the plain-clothed performer.

"You two come and see us before you go if you can," Pete insisted, his dark eyes twinkling. "We'll have more than enough dinner if you two do pop around."

Tim's eyes lit up at the invitation from the knife thrower, (who usually preformed in full Native American garb and feathers, as did his wife.) "Really? Are you gunna have buffalo?"

Connie giggled in her slightly-nasal manner and ruffled Tim's hair as her husband had done. "Sorry kid, it's more like spaghetti. My mother was more Italian than she was Native American, Timmy," she winked up at Grayson.

"Miranda's right, you did get handsome, Dickie, you look just like your father. Doesn't he, Pete?"

Pete put his arm around his wife's waist and studied Grayson, "That smile and the build maybe...but he has Mary's eyes," his sad smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and Pete held out his hand. "They were good people, Dickie, I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to know them better."

Dick shook the knife-thrower's outstretched hand, "Thanks Pete, Connie," he farewelled as the husband and wife performing duo took their leave.

Bruno, the huge strongman, lifted Dick two feet off the ground in a hug, before placing him back down with a laugh as he left Tim and the chuckling Richard Grayson by themselves.

Tim made a mock bow, "After you Mr 'Boss-man'," he joked, lifting up his eyes mockingly. Dick grunted and cuffed the boy playfully, all but dragging the laughing, current Robin into the circus tent.

-xxx-

After they shed their outer clothes down to their costumes and bare feet, Dick showed Tim how to bind up his hands with gym tape and dust them with chalk for a more secure grip of the trapeze.

As Grayson finished dusting his hands, Tim visored his eyes and looked up into the rafters of the tent where the trapeze and platforms, lit up by beams of sunlight, were assembled.

"Not so high as I remembered," Drake mentioned casually, folding his arms over his chest and tapping the yellow against black 'R' on the left side of his breast thoughtfully, as he glanced up at Dick.

Raising a dark eyebrow, Grayson cocked his head to the side and looked back down at Tim with a lob-sided grin. "You were new to the gig when I first brought you here after all; plus you've grown since then," he replied, stretching his muscular arms out in front of him and then raising them above his head.

"But we're not here to test out heights, we're here to work on skill, dexterity and timing."

Tim watched Dick bend his back over, almost resting his hands on the ground behind him, "Sounds just fine to me. I wouldn't mind gaining an inch of the dexterity you've got Dick," his eyes lit up. "You gunna show me how to do that quadruple somersault of yours?"

Letting out a small laugh, Dick straightened himself and cracked his neck, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's a rare feat, and I could do it when I was little more than eight years old; only two other people in the world have ever attempted it professionally, and none apart from me have ever mastered it.

"Boston Brand _almost_ did…" Grayson ran his hands through his hair as he thought of the infamous Deadman.

Tim furrowed his brow, "But, it would be alright to try to teach me, since I'm family right?" He questioned cautiously, watching Dick fold his arms across chest, resting them against the blue design, patterned against the otherwise black of his form-fitting uniform.

"I mean...did you ever teach Jason Todd the move?"

Grayson bit his lower lip and shook his head, "No. I wasn't around enough for Jason and I to be really close. It's not like it is now with you and me, kid, I still had a lot of anger towards Bruce; and I was heavily involved with the Titans.

"Plus Jason was...difficult. I mean, I liked him a lot...Hell, I could have loved him like a brother, just as much as I do you, Tim," Dick sighed and shook his head, a shadow falling over his eyes.

"But sometimes Jason had an attitude that would put a kicked-dog to shame. It was hard to teach him anything without him making you feel as _you_ were guilty if something went wrong, or didn't sink in," Dick cleared his throat and glanced aside.

"So no, I've never taught anyone how to attempt the quad."

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, there's a first time for everything. I'll take the left platform," he grinned up at the solemn Dick, trying to turn the conversation light-hearted again. The attempt to change the subject was successful and Grayson smiled back.

"Well I guess that leaves me the right."

Climbing up the rungs to the platform, Dick glanced around the ladder to see how Tim was all but racing up the rungs to the opposing platform, "Slow down, Timmy, or you're going to be too exhausted to do anything."

Finally reaching the top, Dick untied his trapeze bar and held it one hand as he called out to Tim, who had already untying his bar and was standing poised on the opposing platform.

"Now, I'm going to be your 'catcher,' kid," Dick stretched out free arm, "you're going to be the 'flyer.' We'll run through a few basic catching routines and then we can move into some more complicated stuff once you get the hang of it."

Tim nodded, "Right, me: 'flyer.' You: 'catcher.' So, what's first? Learning how to jump off the platform?"

Grayson balanced on the edge of the platform, smiling broadly, "Well first up, we call the platforms 'boards,' and no, I'm going to do a few swings first to show you what I'm going to do, and what you have to do. My bar is the 'catch-trap,' yours is, aptly enough, the 'fly-bar.' When I call out, 'Hup,' that's the signal for you to leave your board and start to build up some momentum."

Dick stood up on his toes, "You dismount from the platform slightly raised up on your toes like this, you dip your bar and, holding onto it with one hand, kick out your feet behind you. You'll grab the bar with your other hand once you leave the board, and as you do, lift up your legs so they don't hit the end of the board."

Tim watched as Dick took off, innately graceful as the well trained acrobat the half-Romany had been his whole life.

Pushing himself back, Grayson looked up at Tim and continued his teaching as he swung. "Now, currently I'm in the 'Hollow' or neutral position. I'm going to build up some momentum, or 'Force Out' which you'll have to do once you leave the board as well. You kick out your feet behind you just like when you left your board, it's called the 'Sweep'.

"I'll call out 'Hup,' again when you can let go of the bar, and I'll catch you. You'll hear me say, 'Gotcha,' when I've caught you securely; and you know that there's no problem with me and my timing doing that." Dick teased, flipping over the top of his bar before resuming his forward facing _hollow_ position.

"But, if I don't catch you, there's a good solid net below you; and I know you've been taught enough times by Bruce how to land safely."

Tim rubbed his neck ruefully, "Tell me about it. So, do you want this bar as well?" He held out the trapeze awkwardly, and Grayson turned himself around, locking his legs over his bar and looking up at his adopted brother upside down with a grin.

"If you like. I can get the 'Noodle' to swing back the bar afterwards, this way I can show you a few tricks I know, including the 'quadruple somersault,' " Dick offered as he swung back and forth. He'd forgotten how natural it felt up here in the air, maybe even more than it felt with his feet on solid ground.

Tim nodded, "Right," he held out the bar, "so I just let it go?"

Dick nodded, flipping himself back over to the _hollow _position and watched intently as Drake let go of his trapeze and, effortlessly, Grayson let go of his bar and grabbed a hold of the second. Flipping over, Dick _forced out_ and _sweeped_, building up momentum before leaping through the air again and performing a _suicide_ to the second bar.

"Whoa, was that the 'suicide'?" Tim called out, taking detailed notes in his mind of every single movement his predecessor made up here. _Bruce will be impressed if I can pull off any of these moves on our next mission…_

"It was. I'll do the 'Reverse Suicide', then I'll follow up with a 'Pirouette'; then I'll do my personal favourite the 'Salute', and then the 'Quadruple S.' to wrap up."

Slipping into a _reverse suicide_, Dick then preformed the _pirouette_, and leapt up on top the flyer bar to perform the _salute_. With his own little quirks of course, letting go of the lines and flipping his hands around to wear them on his face like goggles, making Tim nearly fall off his board laughing.

Slipping back around into the _hollow_, Dick glided over to Tim's platform and landed back on the board. "Now for the 'Quad S.' " He leapt off of the platform and built back up his momentum, before letting go of the flyer bar and performing the legendary _quadruple somersault_, smoothly grabbing a hold of the catchers bar once he'd completed the rotations.

Tim applauded loudly and put his fingers in the corner of his mouth, whistling before continuing with his applause as Dick landed with a flourish on the right-side platform, cupping his hands around his mouth. Drake called out like an announcer:

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, Richard 'Flying' Grayson_!"

Grayson kept one hand on his bar while posing heroically, before bowing with practised poise, beaming his 'show-man' smile and waving his free hand as if there was an entire audience.

"Well then," Dick called out to Tim, pulling over his bar and retying it to the cord attached to his platform railing, "you ready to try a few catch-and-release exercises now?"

Tim nodded, "You bet! The sooner I get in some practice, the sooner I'll be as good as 'The Flying Grayson,' " he replied gleefully, "this _so_ beats learning ancient martial arts from a book all day."

After Dick had climbed back down the ladder and used the _Noodle_ to swing back the 'flyer' bar to Tim, he leapt and swung his way back up to the platform instead of climbing up the ladder. Untying his bar, Grayson balanced and then took off, swinging back and forth before flipping around and locking his legs around the bar, hanging upside down as he swung.

"Alright. Hup!" Dick called out to Tim, watching his adopted brother intently as Drake stepped boldly up to the edge of the platform. He pulled back, then, gripping tightly to the bar, launched himself from the boards.

"Good sweep, Tim!" Dick applauded, "Now force out," he further instructed and the dark haired teen nodded in assent and attempted the movement. "Not bad, keep your legs straight when you come back, just like when you were a little kid on the swings in the playground!"

Tim started to build up momentum, "Yeah, just like the playground swing...fifty feet off the ground!" He shouted back with a laugh.

Grayson grabbed his bar in preparation as he chuckled as well, "All right partner, I'll be joining you now. Hup!" Dick called out as he launched himself from the right platform and eased from the _Sweep_ into the _Force-out_.

Tim grinned as they came almost face to face as Dick built up momentum, "_They fly through the air with the greatest of ease_," he sang and Grayson poked his tongue out as he flipped around with his ankles grasping the bar.

"Well one of us does, you need to make this release and then you might be one yourself," Dick held out his arms, and Tim pushed back, "All right Tim? Hup!"

Drake started to glide forward when something shimmered in front of his eyes, "Wait a tick, Dick, I think I'm getting glare from the sun," he blinked his eyes a couple of times and shook his head.

Grayson looked up and shook his own head, "Negative, bud, I'm not getting any. I promise I'll catch you, Tim, c'mon," Dick encouraged.

Tim nodded as his vision cleared, "Sorry...yeah a trick of the light I guess. All right, hup!" He forced-out then prepared to let go.

"_He flies through the air with the greatest of ease, that daring young man on_..." Dick sang out teasingly as Drake slipped his hands from the 'flyer' bar and reached out.

As Tim did so he looked up and saw Dick's open hands, but at the same time saw an almost transparent pair of hands, more slender and pale, reaching out for him too.

"..._the flying_..."

"Whoa_.._! _Ahhh_!" Tim screamed and fell backwards, plummeting towards the catchers net far below, his eyes affixed up at the trapeze bars, at the last second he grabbed one of the support cables and hung from it. "I don't believe it...!" He whispered in disbelief as he continued to gaze upward.

Dick's eyes instantly went down the moment his partner fell, "Tim? What happened kiddo?" He shouted down at where Drake was now hanging precariously from a cable.

Tim wordlessly pointed up and Dick looked back up to see a semi-transparent, dark haired man in a 'catchers' position; reaching out to him with a look of confusion in his barely visible, but still achingly familiar, dark brown eyes.

"Oh my God, " Dick breathed, _Dad_? Feeling as if he was going to pass out, the young man let go of his bar and fell hard, for what felt like hours, (but in truth could have only been mere minutes,) backward onto the catchers net that Tim had avoided only moments before.

Gazing back up in disbelief, Dick blinked his eyes a couple of times as he saw the ghostly figures performing a trapeze routine...but not any routine. This was no practice session. This was the top performance that his father choreographed for only the big cities; in particular Gotham…

_Where Dad used to be firm that every performance had to be a showstopper._

Watching with wordless worry that this was the bi-product of the Scarecrow's hallucinogenic concoctions, the erstwhile Nightwing studied the semi-transparent figures who resembled his parents. Then they preformed a strange trick and...

_Wait...that move! I don't remember that... _

Dick swallowed hard, it couldn't be a hallucination, that routine was never performed before, it was clearly a new one. His parents always hid a few new tricks for their son's benefit.

_They liked to do that every so often to surprise me. They were especially for me. Other kids got pocket money...I got a new trick that I might learn later._

"Holy ghosts, Batman," Grayson muttered under his breath as he got to his knees. "What the Hell is going on?"

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter two will be up soon. Let me know what you think in the meantime, thank-you so much for reading.<strong>

**(Full-sized Cover Art for this story can be found in my profile, check for the link.)**


	3. Chapter 2

[Note: People might note John Grayson's native tongue, which I've attempted to use a little in this story, is _Romani_ (The language of the Romani Gypsies .) Not modern Romanian, which John also speaks, but his first language is Romani; which Dick learnt dually with English and Romanian as a child, (although he's not as fluent in either Romanian languages as he is in others nowadays.)

The bulk of circus "slang" comes from Romani, which is not surprising as the Rom and their descendants make up the bulk of circus families to this day. ]

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>im looked down from his tentative perch on the support wires at Dick, who appeared to be recovering; and so the current Robin decided to swing back up to the left platform in order to see if what they'd both witnessed on the trapeze, had merely been a hallucination or trick of the light. (That wouldn't be visible from a higher vantage point.)

As Drake landed on the wooden platform, the teen didn't get a chance to look over the edge when he was 'joined' on the boards; by first the ghostly woman who's hands he'd been freaked out by passing through Dick's and then her handsome partner. Their landing footsteps were silent and Tim began to slowly recognise the two, though he couldn't quite believe it.

The dark haired ghost-woman was slender and beautiful; her hair was long, dark and pulled back into a high ponytail. She smiled lovingly and held out her pale arms towards Tim.

"_My little Robin! You did wonderfully—wait_!" Her ethereal voice changed to one of panic as she stopped mid-stepped towards the, half-frozen in fear, Timothy Drake. "_You're not my son! You're too old...but the colour of your clothing...?"_

Tim swallowed hard, and shook his head, looking aside at the dark haired ghost-man raised a questioning eyebrow at him, a motion that was very familiar. "Err, yeah...no, no I'm not your son, um..."

Drake heard a creaking sound behind them and looked behind him to see the tussled, dark-haired head of Richard Grayson; who looked every bit as pale as Tim knew he must also look. "...err...maybe my friend can explain, yeah." He motioned to his taller companion as Dick joined them on the platform.

Folding his arms across his broad chest, in an effort to hide his shaking hands, Dick faced the demi-visible apparitions, who looked excruciatingly like his parents. The ghost-woman—his mother—blinked her barely visible blue eyes up at him and then walked over to stand toe-to-toe with him.

"_How can you explain the empty tent, sir? There was a large crowd here a moment ago and our son_, _Richard_," the ghost-woman clenched her hands, "_he was right up here on the platform, waiting for us_."

Dick took in a shaky breath, glancing between the two spirits, "What is the last thing you remember?" He queried slowly, deliberately so as the words were hard to speak. Everything in Dick's heart was willing the answer not to be what he witnessed nearly fifteen years previously.

"_We left our son, Richard, up here on the left board."_ The ghost-man spoke up, his voice as deep and soothing, just slightly accented, as Dick remembered. "_We'd finished the family routine and we were performing our couples routine. We completed the routine and we were heading back to join Richard; as my wife said he was waiting for us. _

"_And now, when we landed, we find the crowd gone; and this lad here and not our son waiting for us. Not to mention I swore I saw you, sir, just moments ago on the same bar as my wife"_

Dick ran his hand over his face, taking in a choking breath as he lower his hand and looked at the ghostly couple with tear-filled eyes as he began to tell of that fateful, tragic night fifteen years previously. "Your son _was_ waiting for you. He watched as the cables holding your trapeze snapped; they had been tampered with by the mafia syndicate that the Halys refused to give into–"

"_What_?" John Grayson breathed in disbelief as he interrupted and shook his head, "_No, we're here! We landed.–"_

"You didn't," Dick continued, wringing his hands, "you fell and your son watched you crash to the ground. He couldn't wait up here any longer and rushed down to your side, the blood was spilling out across the middle ring...and the crowd was gasping and screaming..." He pushed his hands through his hair as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

Mary Grayson screamed, "_No! No, you're lying! Where is my son? I want my son!" _She went to lunge at Dick, but was held back by her husband who had a tear rolling down his cheek.

Dick lowered his eyes and squeezed them tightly together to stem his own flood of tears, "He waited for you. He's _waited_ fifteen years for you," he opened and lifted his eyes to the desperate ghost-woman. "Mom."

There was a stunned silence and Mary held the back of her hand to her mouth, "_No...no you can't be...Dickie?"_ She held out her arms and walked towards her dark haired son.

But as Dick held out his arms to catch her embrace, he felt a chill rush through his body as the spirit passed through him and he clenched his fists in pain as his mother cried out, "Mom," he turned and knelt down at the side of the fallen ghost.

"_No, no,"_ Mary was whispering repeatedly, shaking her head in anger as she sat up, _"I can't be dead! You can't be my son, he's just a little boy." _She lifted her knees to her chin and looked painfully at Dick. "_How could you claim such a thing_—?"

"_Mary, my beloved Romni,_" John's steady voice addressed his wife as he joined her and Dick, he took her hand and smiled over at their child. _"Look with your eyes if not your heart, and if you do you can see this young man—our son—is telling the truth. He looks just like your father—"_

"_No,"_ Mary shook her head stubbornly, and turned her gaze up at her grown-up son with a sad smile. _"He _sounds_ like my father, he _looks_ just like you,"_ she smiled through her tears and reached up with her hand. "_Richard, my little Robin...you're so handsome."_

Dick reached out with his hand to meet the ghostly palm of his mother, "I missed you both so much," he whispered, the tears starting to roll down his cheek as his father reached out with his hand to hover it just above his son's shoulder.

"_C'mon Mary,"_ John insisted after a moment, _"on your feet my love. Whatever this is we need to get a good look at our son before anything else happens…and as for you, Mister Richard, up on your toes kiddo."_ He ordered his son good naturedly as he helped his wife up.

Dick smiled through his tears and got to his feet, John beamed and folded his arms across his chest as he stood toe-to-toe with his only son.

"_Gadzooks, boy! You're so tall and..."_ John looked him up and down, _"...well, you're certainly all grown up!"_

Mary encircled her son, _"You forgot to mention devastatingly handsome. My son must have dozens of young ladies chasing him, don't you?" _She teased, a small amount of joviality in her dulcet voice.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle, "Well, a few...oh, this is my...well I guess you could call him my foster brother, Timothy Drake," he motioned over to where Tim had been standing politely aside during the family reunion; the youngest Flying Grayson grateful to be able to change the subject.

Mary turned her gaze, _"Yes, the boy with an R on his chest," _she raised an eyebrow over at Dick, _"Are we going to get an explanation for that, Richard John Grayson?"_ She questioned, before turning back to Tim and smiling. _"I'm sorry if we startled you, young man."_

Drake shrugged his shoulders, "Um, yeah. We've met before...I guess for you it was earlier today. You two and Dick had a photograph taken with me at my parents request..." He trailed off when he saw John nod. "You do remember?"

"_Son, it was only a few hours ago for us...you were so little..."_ John trailed off and shook his head, _"Fifteen years. I truly believe it when you're a teenager, Mr Drake, and my son's a grown man."_

Mary cleared her throat in order to tactfully change the subject, "_So, Timothy, since Dick called you his foster brother, does that mean your parents adopted him_?"She reasoned, wringing her hands as she stood as closely as possible to her grown-up only child.

Dick shook his head, "No. I…I was taken first to Saint Catherine's Orphanage here in Gotham, then after a few months I was made the ward of Bruce Wayne _—"_

"_Bruce Wayne_?" John Grayson repeated, "_As in the Gothamite billionaire_?" He questioned in surprise as his son nodded in confirmation. "_Why would that womanizing, young gadjo take in a nine-year-old child as his ward_?"

Dick rubbed his chin, "There's a lot more to Bruce than meets the eye. His parents were gunned down in front of him when he was ten years old. You remember that he was at the performance that night you died, it was a charity performance for his mother's memorial charity," he explained.

"Bruce knew what it was like to grow up an orphan, and didn't want me to suffer a similar loneliness, but worse since Bruce had his family's retainer, Alfred, to raise him." Dick found it painful to bring up the past. "Bruce want to give me a family and a home. And he and Alfred did."

Mary looked placated, "_I would love to meet them both, they've raised you so well," _ she murmured as she wave her hand around Dick's features, _"I'm almost jealous …I am jealous."_

"Don't be," Dick assured her gently, "it was no compensation for being raised by you and Dad, and becoming the acrobat I was meant to be, but never became," he swallowed hard. "But believe me, Bruce saved me from, and gave me so much, more than I can tell you about just yet."

John looked curious, but didn't voice his curiosity, instead raising his concern, "_Richard, why are we still here? Why haven't we moved on_?" He questioned, "_And why are we here now? Why did we make contact with you at this moment_? _Is it because you haven't been back to Haly's since that night_?"

Dick shook his head, "On the contrary. I bought out Haly's when it was in financial trouble about three years ago; and I've been here on and off at least a dozen times since then," he revealed. "It's been fifteen years…it _was_ fifteen years back in February."

Mary shivered and her husband put his arm about her shoulders, "_I wish you didn't have to talk past tense like that, Dick,_" she whispered, "_We're her_e _now, baby, whatever this is," _ the ghost-woman blinked up at her son and reached out with her hand. "_We're together again_."

Dick sighed deeply, "I know, Mom. But we need to find out how and why this has happened right at this moment," he folded his arms across his chest. "Believe it or not, this is not the first encounter I've had with the deceased coming back."

"You mean like with Sup–I mean, Mr Kent?" Tim checked himself without dropping that very important name.

Dick raised an eyebrow over at his protégé before smiling back over at his curious looking parents. "Not really, that was another kettle of fish. It's not even really how a famous _Deadman_ gets around these days, Timmy," Richard then pointed out cryptically to his teenage companion.

"Still, maybe Babs could shed a little light on this situation–"

"_Babs_?" Mary interrupted questioningly.

"Barbara Gordon, she's a computer whiz and Gotham Police Commissioner Gordon's daughter," Timothy supplied easily, leaning against Dick as he thumbed towards him. "Her and Dick have known each other since they were kids. They have a little 'thing' going on." He winked.

"_Oh_?" John queried with a raised brow and a smirk over at his son, who nudged Tim playfully with his elbow in response, "_A 'thing', huh?_"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, "Well I guess you'd call it _something_," he admitted with a small smile, Mary looked protective and stepped up to her son with a pensive expression.

"_A _serious_ something, Richard John Grayson?"_

The young man looked uncomfortable, "Well yeah…like Tim said I've known Babs a long time and…well…I care about her a lot." Dick smiled down at his mother with a wink, "You'll love her, Mom. She's so smart and strong–"

"And a babe," Tim added with a chuckle at Dick's almost bemused expression when talking about his girlfriend. "Dick always has an eye for the prettiest red-heads in the world…not to mention blondes, brunettes–hey!"

Dick cuffed Drake and gave him a noogie, "Watch it, tenderfoot, these are my parents your talking to," he warned, letting go of the teenager, who waved a hand in surrender.

"Right, I can take a hint!" Tim wiggled out of Dick's grip and made his way over to the ladder, "I'll meet you on the ground," he glanced over at John who was laughing. "Did I also mention the amount of women who chase _him_?"

Dick waved a fist, "Down you delinquent, and don't touch my bike or I'll have Peaches sit on you the rest of the ride back to the manor," he threatened as Tim laughed and began clambering down the ladder. Dick smiled over at his parents, "It's not all true–"

"Yes it is!" Tim's voice called out from below and Dick sighed heavily as his mother looked disprovingly up at him.

"So," Dick folded his arms over his chest as he changed the subject back to the matter at hand, "it's okay? You trust me that if there's a way to find out what's going on, Babs can definitely find it?"

John smiled up at his slightly taller son, _"Richard, mandi ha kam a tacho tu may sigo sar. O cheros mandi kam tu." ("I have loved and trusted you even before you were born. The moment I knew you existed I loved you.")_

Hearing his father speak Romani after all the years apart brought stinging tears to Dick's blue eyes, and he smiled through them at his father. "It's been so long since I last heard you say that to me," Dick almost whispered, his throat closing over, "all these years…"

Clearing his throat, Dick smiled and turned away, "We should leave as soon as possible. I'll have to grab the car I keep I storage here, then come back later for my bike," he changed the subject quickly, his parents noting the way their son pushed aside his emotions, so calmly, with raised eyebrows.

_Richard was never this way as a child_. _Did our deaths drive away his beautiful, sweet nature?_ Mary thought worriedly, wringing her semi-transparent hands.

John, on the other hand, was decidedly curious about his son's toned, muscular build; and the swift way he moved to start climbing down the ladder, _Richard says he's no longer a trapeze acrobat, but he's built better than any acrobat or gymnast I've ever seen_. He knotted his heavy eyebrows in concern.

_I must ask him what he does soon. His has not the body of a layabout, rich playboy, though he speaks so well. I'd never thought I'd think of my own child as an enigma…Bruce Wayne, what have you made of my only son?_

-xxx-

Once the Graysons were once more together again on solid ground, a fully clothed Tim stood beside John and Mary as their dark haired son pulled back on his street clothes; the youngest Grayson rolled down the higher neck of his Nightwing suit and hid it under his t-shirt collar.

"_Richard,"_ John suddenly invoked in his slightly accented voice and Dick turned his head to his ghostly father. "_Where is your Mulengi dori? You return to the place of our deaths without protection?"_

Tim glanced over, watching as Dick's hand went to his throat, then he dropped it as he sat on the edge of one of the outside rings, pulling on his runners.

"It's somewhere in my room back at Wayne Manor, I haven't worn it since I made my first trip back here at fourteen. A Mulengi dori is better known as a 'Dead Man's String,' Tim," Dick answered the unasked question from his younger protégé as he tied up his laces.

"Romani Gypsies believe that the spirits of the dead will give you protection by wearing it."

John raised his brow, "_You are a Rom, Richard. Or have you become a complete gadjo my son?" _

Dick furrowed his own brow as he finished tying his laces, "Mom is not Rom. And I was raised by someone with such blue blood it makes most of the Rockefellers look middle-class," he replied diplomatically. "And no, I'm not a complete gadjo, I never forget where I come from."

The spirit of the Grayson patriarch sighed heavily, "_That is good. I may have left my family as a boy younger than even this Tim lad, but Rom history is primarily passed from one generation to the next, with very little if ever being written down_," he mused, his tanned, handsome features fixed in mixed expression of regret and resolve.

"I remember," Dick murmured in response as he got to his feet, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets with a soft smile at his father. "I used to fall asleep to either you telling one of your tales; or Mom singing…"

Mary moved beside her son, reaching up with her hand to move it around Dick's features with a sad smile, before turning to Tim. "_I used to sing him my favourite songs from when I was a girl. The Beatles, Elvis, The Beach Boys…except for the night before a performance_," she turned back to her son. "_Do you remember what I used to sing to you?_"

Dick reached up to wipe his eyes, "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze," he replied, folding his arms against his chest to keep them from shaking. "You always told me the song would keep me safe, because the man in the song would one day be me, wowing crowds and sweeping girls off their feet–"

"_With the greatest of ease,"_ Mary finished, tucking a strand of her semi-transparent hair behind her ear with a small laugh, "_You were such a little Casanova, even at nine you already had an eye for a pretty girl. I still can see you chasing after little Raya when you were five, begging her to give you a kiss."_

Tim chuckled and Dick also let out a laugh at his own expense.

"I remember that. I'm pretty sure she started out my love of redheads, Raya's not so little anymore either," Richard muttered, mostly to himself as he motioned to his protégé. "We'd better move it, Babs starts her night job in a few hours."

-xxx-

Exiting the tent, the small group comprising of the three Graysons and Tim found the usual hubbub of work going on. Harry Haly was talking to Danny Poteet not to far away from the tent; and they both turned their heads.

"You and the kid-rube leaving already Dickie?" Danny called out curiously as he and Harry walked over to join them, John leaned towards his son.

"_That's Harry Haly with Danny? Where's Pop?_"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, "He…was murdered not too long after you and Mom passed, Harry took over," he revealed softly out of the corner of his mouth, before smiling over at Poteet and Haly as they joined them.

"Hey guys. Yeah, I have to get Tim back home," Dick mentioned with a quick flash of a smile, he noticed that they hadn't reacted at all to John and Mary. Tim noticed as well and tried waving his hand around the ghostly couple and gesturing to them.

Poteet blinked over at the teenager, rapidly moving his hands about, with a cautious frown under his mustache, "Your little friend runnin' low on blood-sugar or is he practicing some of that modern-dance stuff?" he questioned Dick, who shook his head at Tim, who looked slightly indignant at being called 'little'.

"Err, probably a bit of both. The sun was right in our eyes when we were up in the traps," Dick replied smoothly, curious himself as to why Danny and Harry couldn't see his parents but not missing a chance to tease his sort-of little brother. "Anyway, I thought I'd pop the bike into storage and take the car just in case Tim's still a little dizzy."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, the sun at this time of the year is murder, thank the stars we only preform matinées during the spring and fall month," he blinked a couple of times, "sun's getting to me too, Dickie, for a moment there you looked even _more_ like your father than usual."

Dick glanced over his shoulder at his smirking father, "I take it as a compliment Har. Danny, could you show Tim over to the storage shed and I'll bring around my bike?" He asked, Poteet nodded and motioned to Drake, who followed the aging circus crew manager across to the left of the circus grounds.

Harry thumbed after them, "I'll go join them so I can see you off before you go," he excused himself and Dick nodded as they parted.

"_They couldn't see us_," Mary mentioned as she and her husband trailed after Dick as he walked around to the other side of the circus tent.

Dick nodded, "I noticed…did you want them to see you?" He revealed his sudden thought and halted, looking between his parents.

John glanced over at Mary, before shrugging his shoulders, "_I had the thought that both Harry and Dan have aged so much and…I hardly recognized either of them…it was a little upsetting,_" he admitted.

Mary nodded, "_You think maybe on a…what is it…unconscious level we didn't want Harry and Danny to see us so they couldn't_?" She looked frightened, "_I don't like this, Richard , I don't like it at all. We're dead, you're a grown man when not even a moment ago for us you were a little boy–-"_

Dick wanted more than anything to hug his mother at that moment, she looked so very vulnerable and… _God, she's not even thirty is she? There's only a few years age difference between us now…and a completely different lifetime._

"Mom, please. I promise that we'll find out what's going on, or at least try," Dick implored, smiling as much as he could down at her, before tuning away and continuing on his way around the circus tent.

Locating his Wing-cycle, Dick quickly mounted it and kicked off the brake.

"_What on Earth is that thing_?" Mary's questioning voice held a tone of disapproval and Dick lent his arms over the dashboard with a sigh.

"It's my bike, Mom."

Mary folded her arms with a frown, "_That is _not_ a bike, young man, that is a _motorcycle," she emphasised with a raised brow.

John put his hand on his wife's shoulder, "_Of course it's a motorcycle. He's a grown man May, did you honestly expect him to have a push-bike_?" he wondered over to have a look at the machine, "_Did you modify this yourself, Richard_? _It has the same colours as the unitard you have under your clothes_."

Dick nodded, "With a bit of help from my friend Victor Stone. It's a _Ducati_ under the mods. Bruce has always been a mechanical whiz, I learnt from him," he admitted as John nodded and mounted the motorcycle behind his son.

"_C'mon May_," John encouraged his disapproving wife, who sighed heavily and ran her right hand through her ghostly dark waves, "_it's not like it's going to_–"

Mary was at her husband's side in a flash and slapped his cheek before he could finish, "_That is very insensitive John Grayson,_" she scolded as she sighed again and jumped onto his lap.

Dick smiled behind his hand, remembering many arguments like this between his parents that were never too serious. He pulled his keys from his jacket pocket and put them in the ignition, revving up the engine he went to put his hands on the handlebars when he felt a cold sensation on his right shoulder and saw a pale hand half-way passing through it to his bicep.

"_Richard!_" Mary said pointedly with a small smile as her son glanced over his shoulder at her, "_Helmet."_

Dick sighed and grabbed his helmet, "Yes ma'am," he replied, trying to repress the smirk on his face at being scolded for his own safety, he hadn't heard that sort of reprimand in years from anyone, and not-so-secretly he was enjoying hearing it from his mother.

Balancing out the motorcycle, Dick started her up and kicked up a bit of dust as he drove it towards the usual location of the storage sheds. He drove as slowly as possible across the circus grounds before braking to a halt at the shed, where Danny, Tim and Harry had just arrived.

Hopping off, Dick removed his helmet and waited for his parents to dismount the bike before lifting up the helmet compartment and putting his helmet inside. Tim walked over and grabbed his 'R' logoed helmet from the left handlebar, as Dick kicked off the brake and started to walk his motorcycle into the storage shed.

Tim looked around at the mountains of items assembled. Some were covered with tarps and canvas sheets, while others were half-uncovered and displaying such things as cannons, old fashioned cages, and colourful painted stools in various sizes used for tigers, lions and elephants to balance upon.

Just up ahead Tim could see the very familiar outline of a covered car and followed his protégé over as Dick whipped the canvas off of the car. Hidden beneath the cloth was a near replica of Dick's usual heavily modified custom wheels, (looking something like an old Chevy, with the same beat-up exterior hiding the McLaren engine,) but this one was in black.

"She's much better than the orange junk you usually jet around in, Dick," Tim mentioned.

Dick shrugged his shoulders and reached into his left jacket pocket for his keys, "She's not as _reliable_ if you get my meaning tenderfoot," he put the key in the door and unlocked the car.

Giving the briefest nod in his parents direction, Dick opened up the back door and slipped off his jacket, tossing it onto the back seat he deliberately left the door open as he turned to shake Danny and then Harry's hands, allowing his parents to duck inside the car.

"I'll see you guys soon."

Harry lent forward, "Sooner than you think, Dickie. We're going to be heading to Gotham in five days, remember?" He winked up at the younger man as Dick ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh yeah, man I'd forgotten," Grayson folded his arms across his chest, "I might see you then. Take care Har, Danny," he shut the back door and opened up the driver-side door, slipping inside and shutting it tight.

Tim said a quick good-bye to Harry and Danny, before rushing around to the passenger side. As Tim entered, he spared a glance into the back seat where John and Mary were still intently eyeing their son, Dick started up the car and immediately _Steppenwolf_ started to play.

Drake smirked and looked across at his predecessor.

"Babs is right, you are such a dork."

Dick grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment and slipped them on, "Oh like you don't love this song," he teased right back as he began to back out the car and Tim put his arms behind his head.

"Now I didn't say that either, but I'm an even bigger dork than you."

As they drove out of the circus grounds, Dick and Tim began singing along to the sharp guitar riffs, Tim banging his hands against the dashboard and Dick tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, John joined in the singing after a while and tried, unsuccessfully, to get his concerned wife to join in.

"…_take the world in a love embrace. Fire all your guns at once and explode into space. I like smokin' lightning…_"

About ten or so minutes later when they reached the freeway, Dick glanced over his shoulder at his parents who were sitting silently with their hands entwined. "Everything okay?" He questioned with a soft smile, but inwardly he was concerned that this was all either a dream or his parents might disappear altogether.

John gave his son the famous Grayson dazzle smile that Dick had inherited, "_We're just fine Richard. You're an excellent driver." _He assured his son as Mary nodded in agreement.

Dick nodded as he turned back to the road ahead, "Well I learned from the best–"

Tim stopped bobbing along to _Get Back_ by _The Beatles_ and interrupted, "Bruce?"

Lifting up his sunglasses Dick glanced his blue eyes aside at the teenager, "Alfred. Bruce didn't have the time back then," he pushed back down his glasses. "Besides, Alfred is much better driver, he also has better taste in music."

"_Wayne_," John began with a solemn tone, "_he did not spend much time with you, Richard_?"

Tim raised an eyebrow over at his idol as the older man's mouth twitched slightly as they entered the freeway, the traffic on which was just starting to disperse from peak-hour.

"We spent a lot of time together when I was younger, as I got older we sort of drifted apart when I was in my mid-teens as I had a close group of friends I still spend a lot of time with," Dick explained. "Bruce grew busier and then I was in college for a year before I went on a wonder around the country–"

"_Gypsy blood_," Mary interrupted fondly, "_did you go back to college afterwards, Richard?_"

Dick shook his head, "No, I…went into a junior branch of law enforcement and judicial matters, and I'm still involved in the same industry–"

John lent forward with a surprised expression, "_You're a lawyer_?" He had a tone in his voice suggesting a mixture of pride and surprise.

The younger Grayson chuckled and shook his dark haired head, pushing back his longish bangs with one hand, "No I…I never ended up going back to college. I went the other way, to the Police Academy…I'm a cop."

Mary clasped her hands with a happy smile and John had his brow raised.

"_Oh our son is a policeman. That is wonderful Richard, you always were such a mediative child with the rest of the circus children, and always so selfless. Are you a detective or_–"

Dick laughed at his mother's exuberance, "Just an officer, Mom," he interrupted with a grin, "I was inspired to go into law enforcement by Bruce actually," Dick swallowed hard, feeling the guilt for side-stepping around the truth. "He's close friends with Barbara's father, Commissioner Gordon. Jim was amongst the first of the police who arrived the night you…the night of the accident."

John lent forward, "_Did Wayne take you in right away, Richard? I remember meeting the man before the performance, he didn't seem like the fatherly type."_

Dick had forgotten how intuitive his father was, _I've inherited that trait from him obviously,_ "No I spent some time in an orphanage since Haly's were denied custody–Bruce took me in as his ward about six months after I was placed there," he bit his lower lip as he heard his mother's sad gasp.

"_Sweetie I–we never…we had an insurance policy in the event of our death but we never named a guardian in case…we just assumed you would either be over eighteen or Pop and Harry would be granted custody_."

Dick glanced over his shoulder and smiled softly at his mother, "You couldn't have known, Mom. As I keep telling you I'm okay," he turned back around and located his blue-tooth. "I'm just going to give Babs a call to let her know we're on our way. Watchtower," Dick spoke up.

"_Watchtower_?" Mary repeated.

Dick chuckled, "It's what I nicknamed Babs' apartment, she's always looking out for me so–"

"_**Heya Hunk-wonder. What do I owe the pleasure of the great Dick Grayson calling me the old-fashioned way**_?"

Barbara's soothing, playful voice broke through the speakers and Tim let out a laugh.

" 'Hunk-wonder,' " the teenager snorted and started to cackle, Dick playfully punched his protégé's upper arm and Babs let out her own chuckle.

"_**From what I just heard I take it you're not alone, Dick? Little brother?**_" The former Batgirl turned Oracle and 'Voice of the Superhero community' questioned as Dick put Tim in a one armed chokehold, keeping his free hand on the wheel.

"Yeah and…look Babs, I'm going to be bringing over some very important people and they _don't know_–" Dick dropped the code phrase before continuing, ignoring Tim's mock struggle to get free, "–what has happened to them. Please tell me your apartment's free, we need to go over some things with you."

There was a momentary pause before a reply, "_**Just finished up the last of my duties actually, hon. You far away**_?"

"About fifteen minutes or so. I'll see you then, Babs." Dick farewelled, letting go of Tim as he did so, the teenager rubbing his neck ruefully with an unrepentant smirk.

"_**See you then, Richard.**_" Barbara farewelled, the dial tone sounding a couple of times before Dick turned off the blue-tooth.

Dick glanced over his shoulder with a smile at his parents, "That was Babs, wait till you meet her, she's even more wonderful in person," he assured, Mary's eyes twinkled as she stole a glance at John, before turning back.

"_She is quite special to you? Tim said you've known each other since you were children?"_

Richard nodded his head as he turned his attention back to the road ahead, "I met her when I was thirteen. Bruce had always known Jim Gordon quite well, but after he got promoted to Commissioner Jim attended more events and sometimes brought Babs, who was just over a year older than me–still is–and we would hang out together, then we attended High School together–I was skipped ahead into the above grade so I had my classes with her.

"We attended our junior prom together, I…missed out on taking her to the senior prom because I was in Italy with some friends," Dick mentioned.

"We sorta drifted apart when I went to college in New York and Babs stayed for college in Gotham. Then I met Kory and Babs got engaged to a detective who used to work for the GPD, they broke off the engagement around the same time I got engaged to Kory…then that didn't work out and I came back to Gotham, then Büldhaven and Babs and I started our little 'something' up again…sorta."

John nodded with a smile, "_Love sometimes takes a long time to figure out. Sometimes it's almost instantaneous like your mother and I…sometimes it's a much longer journey." _He winked, _"Either way, it's always worth the effort, you can take that into account as well young Timothy ."_

Tim, half-way through opening a packet of chips, lent his arms over the back rest and turned his smile to John, "I welcome any and _all_ advice about girls, Mr Grayson. They've given me a headache nearly all my life and I've just turned sixteen," he revealed brightly, making the other three occupants of the cars chuckle.

Dick pointed outside the window, "Welcome back to Gotham," he revealed, Mary, John and Tim looked out in the direction Dick had pointed at the welcome sign to Gotham city.

It was a massive construction with an illustration of a Bat-symbol spouting:

_**Welcome to Gotham City. Under the proud protection of Batman and Robin.**_

John blinked, "_I remember hearing about The Batman…but he was just regarded as an urban myth or an unwanted vigilante…who is this Robin?_"

Tim nearly choked on his potato chips and side glanced at Dick, who was biting his lower lip in thought.

"Robin is Batman's junior partner…there's been a couple of them," Dick revealed slowly, checking over at Tim as the teenager managed to navigate the food he was choking on down his throat. "The latest one is about Tim's age."

Mary looked dismayed, "_Have they always been children? What sort of monster takes children out fighting crime at night?"_

Tim coughed and grabbed the bottle of water Dick offered him with a nod of thanks, but with a raised eyebrow of concern and sympathy for his protégé, who smiled faintly.

"I couldn't tell you, Mom." Dick sighed heavily and glanced aside at the welcome sign as they passed it. "Even if I could, I don't think I could make sense of it…not anymore."

* * *

><p>Sorry for the delay. This has been sitting on my computer for a few months now, I just forgot to upload it. But here it is now. (<strong>Next chapter<strong>: John and Mary meet Barbara and Alfred for the first time. Plus someone else important in Dick's life…and it's not who you think. Stay tuned.)


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>hey'd pulled up outside the unremarkable looking apartment block moments before and were now scaling the several flights of stairs to Barbara's apartment. Stopping outside, Dick knocked three times and waited a moment.

There was a buzzing sound from the speaker beside the door and Dick hit the button, his parents were not aware how the device was rigged to recognise their son's DNA automatically.

"**_Who is it_**?" Barbara's dulcet voice queried, (although she'd be quite aware of the person at her door.)

_What a merry charade we can all put on_, Dick thought darkly. "It's me, Babs. And I brought some special people I'd like you to meet." He responded quickly, before his annoyance at having to play these age-old games with his parents involved, got the better of him.

Barbara had a knack for sensing his mood, and Dick mentally pleaded for her to not think there was any sort of danger from the people he was at her front door with.

"**_The door's unlocked, come on in_**," Barbara's reply was swift, and quite politely vague, as the speaker turned off.

"Oh, she _knows_ something is up," Tim hissed in his ear, Dick ignored him and put his hand on the door-knob, twisting it open he waited for his parents and Tim to enter first, then shut the door behind himself.

"Babs?" Dick called out. As the Graysons looked around the simple, well decorated apartment with mild interest, there was the sound of clinking porcelain and silverware coming from the opposite side of the apartment, where –through the open door– you caught the glimpse of a kitchen.

"Just a second, Dick. Did you want to send in Tim to give me a hand here," a female voice –the same from the various speakers they'd heard before belonging to Barbara Gordon– called out. Drake quickly made his way over to the kitchen.

"There, Tim, take the tray with the coffee pot and cups, I'll be fine with this tray." They heard Barbara say to the teenager.

"Wow those look good! Did you make those cookies?" They heard Tim question excitedly.

"Yep, just this morning, double chocolate chip with raisins. I got the recipe from Alfred," Barbara confirmed, "He also brought over the marble-cake this afternoon on the way to the market, something about making sure your 'Big Brother' ate more because he's _too_ skinny. Do you hear that, Dick?"

Dick smiled sheepishly over at his parents, he didn't know if Babs was doing the 'casual girlfriend' routine on purpose or not, but knowing his brilliant better-half it was probably the latter.

"I hear you Babs. Come on out here, there's two people I really want to introduce you to," the last living member of the Flying Graysons glanced over at his parents, before taking in a deep breath as he waited for his girlfriend's reaction as she entered the living room.

There was the quiet sound of soft tire-treads and a vibrant, red-haired young woman –dressed casually in a green singlet top and black jeans with converses– rolled into the room with a tray of baked goods.

Barbara Gordon blinked her green eyes a couple of times, as she settled her bespectacled gaze on the semi-translucent couple in acrobat leotards, "Oh." She announced simply, her eyes turning away from the spirits to Richard Grayson. "Dick?"

Clearing his throat, Dick smiled and motioned to Barbara, "Mom, Dad, I'd like to introduce you to Barbara Gordon. Babs, these are my parents, John and Mary," the youngest Grayson introduced as Babs wheeled forward and Dick took the tray from her lap.

The red haired woman offered her hand towards the couple, then nervously withdrew it, "Right, you probably can't –I mean," Barbara tucked a strand of her red hair, that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her right ear and smiled, "it's an honour to meet you two, really. Dick has told me so much about you both over the years and–"

John held up his right hand kindly smiling, "_It is okay, Miss Gordon. We understand this is much be as strange to an outsider as ourselves, it is lovely to meet you as well,_" he assured the red-haired young woman.

Barbara nodded slowly, sparing a glance over at Dick, before turning back to the ghosts, "It's not the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life, but it is a little unusual. Please, call me Barbara, or Babs, whichever you like," Gordon wasn't naturally a nervy person. But it wasn't every day you met your sort-of-boyfriend's parents…especially when they'd been dead years before you'd even met him.

Mary flashed her lovely smile, "_It is indeed wonderful to meet you, Barbara.__ Please call me Mary.__ You're just as beautiful as Richard said you were," _she revealed_._

"So are you, Mary, I can see where Dick gets those amazing eyes of his," Barbara smiled in return and motioned to her sitting area, where two sofas faced each over a carved coffee-table, where Tim was already setting down his tray of baked goods. "Please sit; and maybe someone can tell me what's going on?"

Dick dutifully carried over the coffee tray to the table and put it down next to the cake and cookies, "It's a long story, Babs," he admitted, Barbara halted her wheelchair next to the sofa on the right and put on the brake. "Need a hand?"

Barbara nodded, "It'll be faster, Grayson," she offered her arms up and Dick picked her up effortlessly from the chair and cradled her a moment before placing her down on the sofa. John and Mary looked at each other with matching soft smiles, before sitting down on the opposite sofa.

Dick sat down beside Barbara; and Tim sat next to John and Mary, (a cookie already jammed in his mouth,) as Babs lent over to begin pouring out the coffee, glancing up at John and Mary. The latter had folded his arms over his powerful chest and his wife had her hands folded on her lap.

"Can you…I mean…"

The two spirits grimaced, "_I don't think we need to–or can…I'm unsure_," John admitted. "_It smells wonderful, Barbara, but I don't know. Richard mentioned you might be able to help us_?" He changed the subject gently.

Barbara handed over a cup to Dick, who had the cream jug in his hand and poured the liquid into the cup he took from the red-head. Tim had poured himself a glass of milk and was preoccupied with stuffing his mouth with cookies, with the gusto of a growing teenager.

"I think so. Maybe if we start from the beginning?"

The Graysons told their half of the story, and Dick and Tim interjected with their other half.

Once their tale was over, Babs took a bite from her cookie and nodded as she munched. "It is an unusual situation, but not unheard of," she lent forward, "I have done some research into earth-bound spirits. Usually the lingering spirits remain until they receive closure from whatever task they were undertaking, before their demise.

"Making sure the loved one they were about to visit is okay; seeing their work finally completed–" Babs turned to Dick –finishing off his third slice of marble cake– who stopped mid bite to look over at his parents, who blinked back their son.

"_The routine_?" All three interrupted together.

Dick turned back to Barbara, "That's it, isn't it? Could it be that? Babs?" He questioned his erstwhile lover, who narrowed her green eyes and nodded, leaning back on the sofa.

"It's…entirely possible, although," Babs put down her coffee cup and looked between the Graysons, "if that _is_ what is earth-binding John and Mary, how do we go about–"

"Easy," Tim suddenly spoke up, all eyes in the room turning on the teenage boy, who looked excited at his expectant revelation, "Dick, didn't Mr Haly say the circus was going to be in Gotham in about five days?"

John clasped his hands, "_Exactly. You're right, Timothy_," he agreed and the rest of the group all turned their gaze to the legendary John Grayson. "_We can finish the routine,_" he looked directly at his son, "_together. Dick, the world is going to see you fly once again with your family._"

Dick bit his lower lip, "But they can't see you, that would frighten–you'd have to do the routine _invisible_ to the public and that means I'd have to…" he pushed back his lanky bangs from his eyes, "…I'd be up there again, after all this time. Dad, I haven't done a proper routine since you and Mom…" Dick trailed off and rubbed his eyes.

"…not since _then_. I've done a couple of exhibitions back in my late teens, with a couple of other circuses. But I don't preform…never at Haly's…I don't know if I can."

John shook his head, "_It is in your blood, Richard. You are my son; and I know however old you get and wherever life has taken you, you are still our Boy Wonder_."

Babs looked sympathetically over at Dick when John used that old term, the youngest Grayson's expression remaining emotionless.

Mary lent across, "_Richard, I know you can do this. We need you to help us._"

John put his hand on Mary's, "_We need you to fly, son. It's time._"

Looking between his parents, Dick let out a heavy sigh of resolution and nodded. "It's time," he echoed his father in agreement and reached over for Barbara's pale hand. "I'll call up Harry," Dick confirmed, "we're going to have to get started on our old routine."

John shook his head, "_We're going to have to reorganize. A similar routine, but you have to be included much more heavily, obviously. You'll have to do a single routine first, and then…do you remember the routine your mother and I once did in Metropolis? For that charity Super Circus, with Boston Brand_?"

Tim blinked over at Barbara, who shushed him with a finger to her lips, a movement missed by John Grayson and his son, but one that a curious Mary noted with a slight narrowing of her eyes.

Dick nodded his head, "I do…vaguely. I think I was more excited by the fact Superman was in the audience." He smirked over at his mother, who chuckled at his expression.

"_I remember that. You always loved your superheroes_."

"Some things never change," Tim muttered under his breath, Barbara tossed a cookie at the boy, who caught it at the last second and meekly ate it under the young woman's glare.

"So the routine you and Mom were going to preform was a pairs variation on the trio," Dick continued, also shooting Tim a warning glare, before turning back to his father.

"_Exactly, with a couple of extra manoeuvres I'm sure you can learn in a few days if –as you said –you have been keeping up with your skills. You and I would both be catchers…_" John trailed off and let out a sad chuckle. "_…I thought I'd be waiting at least until you were in your late teens to say that..._"

Mary let out a sound caught between a sob and a sigh, "_John…you promised you weren't going to say anything like that, not now_," she half-heartedly scolded her spouse, "_What happened to us happened, and Dick is as old as he is. Now we just need to figure out what we're doing_."

Dick furrowed his brow, "Maybe it's getting late. Babs, do you think you could do a tiny little bit more research into this tonight and I'll take my Mom and Dad back to the manor," he suggested. "I've should drop off Timbo back to his place as well."

Barbara nodded and smiled up at Dick, "I think that's a good idea. I think we're all a little too emotionally caught up right now to figure out everything just yet," she pulled over her wheelchair and maneuvered herself into it.

Everyone else got to their feet and Barbara pulled up her brake, wheeling herself ahead of them as they headed to the door. Dick opened it up and Tim stepped out, followed by the Graysons.

Bending down to Barbara's level, Dick kissed her lips softly, before leaning down towards her left ear, "_I'll be around later,_" he whispered, Babs smiled and reached up to pull him into a much longer kiss, before letting him go.

"_I'll see you then,_" Barbara whispered back, before turning her gaze around to the rest of the group. "Good-bye, Tim. It was lovely to finally meet you, John, Mary."

"_You too, Barbara_," John farewelled and Mary waved as Dick stepped outside and threw Babs a wink, making her poke out her tongue as she closed her door behind them.

As they walked down the stairs, Mary made sure she was at her son's side, beaming widely. "_Dick, Barbara's wonderful_." She exclaimed, much pleased with her first impression of the young woman her son appeared to be enamored with. "_I'm so happy we got a chance to meet her._"

John nodded as he also sided up to his son, "_I agree. She is a beauty and I can see she loves you very much_," he looked slightly up at Dick. "_How long have you known her, again_?"

Dick smiled, "I met her when I was thirteen and then we went to high school together. Like I said, a long time. We used to attend gymnastic competitions together; and once we even competed in a unisex competition. Of course Babs was always superior to me on the floor exercises–"

Mary cocked her head to the side, "_Then Barbara wasn't always disabled_?" She questioned with surprise, Dick shook his head grimly.

"No. There was an accident. An insane criminal Babs' father, Commissioner Gordon, locked away escaped and shot her a few years ago," a dark shadow fell over Dick's eyes as they stepped out into the twilight streets of Gotham. "It made Babs stronger though, if that was even possible. And she recovered and became my Babs again…but there is one thing I miss more than anything that the accident took away." Dick lent his arm atop the roof of his car as he opened up the driver door.

"No-one danced like Barbara could dance."

-xxx-

After dropping Tim at his house, Dick drove his parents the few miles to the Wayne Family property. Mary and John stared up at through huge iron gates with awe as their son wound down his window and reached out to type in a code into the security panel.

"_My God…Richard, you grew up here?_" Mary questioned.

Dick shrugged and nodded, ducking back into the car as the gates glided open, "Up until I was eighteen, yeah. It's not really the same, there was a terrible earthquake not too long ago and it had to be rebuilt, so Bruce modernized it a little, expanded out a little…" Dick trailed off as he took the car out of neutral and continued to move up the drive and through the open gates.

"…it's not really how it was when I was growing up here. My room is the same; the kitchen; the study and library; Bruce's room and his parents room…everything else is different."

John looked over at the looming, Gothic manor with narrowed eyes, "_It reminds me of the museums in Europe you used to like dragging your mother and I to see." _He paused._ "You weren't frightened or uncomfortable at all, living here?"_

Dick nodded as he turned the wheel to the left and headed for the kitchen entry. "At first, yeah. Like you said, Dad, it was like living in a museum. Alfred hadn't looked after a child since Bruce had been a kid; and of course Bruce really had no idea what to do with me," he chuckled, remembering those early days in Wayne Manor.

"But we bonded. Bruce taught me so much and Alfred took care of everything else. I travelled around the world; met interesting people; learnt different languages, cultures." Dick pulled the car to a halt at on the gravel drive just in front of the kitchen/service entry to the manor. He rested his chin atop the steering wheel as he looked ahead at the manor.

"Sometimes I have trouble admitting it, but this is still home. Just as much as Haly's is."

Mary leaned over and smiled down at her son, "_It may be clichéd, Richard, but home **is** where your heart is_." She hovered her hand next to Dick's right cheek, "_The bigger your heart, the more places you have to call home."_

Dick turned and smiled at his mother, "If I have a big heart, I get it from you and Dad," he turned back around and unbuckled his seatbelt, "Okay. You'll be okay meeting Alfred, right?" Dick glanced back over at his father. "No nerves? Promise?"

John raised a dark eyebrow, "_He's an old man, correct? Will he be able to handle the shock?_"

Unlatching his driver-side door, Dick sighed heavily, "Alfred has seen a lot of strange things in his life," the younger Grayson revealed as he stepped out of his car and walked over to open up the side door for his parents, (knowing they didn't like the idea they could pass through solid objects.)

"I'm sure he'll be able to handle it."

Once his parents were out of the car, Dick shut and locked the car with his remote control and motioned to John and Mary as he strolled up the three, worn steps to the kitchen entrance. Using his key-code, Dick twisted the knob of the original wooden door and pushed it open.

Alfred –still in his white half-apron– was perched at the breakfast bar; a tea-pot and cup of tea beside him; beside the brew and it's pot, also lay a buttered plate of the raisin tea-cakes. The long serving Wayne Family butler, was flipping through the _Gotham Gazette_, but he stopped as he glanced over and smile at his former charge.

"Master Richard. Where is Master Timothy?" Alfred got up from his stool and grabbed another tea-cup, before returning to the breakfast bar and picking up the teapot. "Let me get you some–" he looked over at where Dick was standing, very much not alone this time. "–tea…" Alfred trailed off and dropped both the empty cup and the small teapot with a crash.

"…oh, my…"

John leant forward over his son's shoulder, "_You said he'd be able to handle this_," he whispered.

Dick shrugged, "He's English. He usually can. I didn't think ghosts would finally do it," he whispered back, before slowly walking over to the former Army field medic. "Alfred," Dick began.

As soon as the youngest Grayson was in grasping distance, Alfred did just that, grabbing tightly to Dick's college jacket covered arm and staring slightly up at him.

"Master Richard. I do not wish to alarm you, however, there are two apparitions behind you that very much resemble your late parents." Alfred hissed, glancing back over at John and Mary.

"Do you wish for me to send an alert Miss Zatanna or any other members of your and Master Bruce's club? Or shall I distract whatever they are so you can do so?"

Dick rested his arms on Alfred's shoulders. "It's all right. They're not a threat. They are, actually, my parents." He motioned over to John and Mary, who approached slowly, "Everything's okay. Alfred, I'd like you to meet John and Mary Grayson. Say hello and no, before you offer, they can't drink tea."

Alfred raised his brow and glanced aside at Dick, "Ghost are allergic to tea?" He questioned with mild-surprise, slowly relaxing his stance as Mary and John sided up to Dick and himself.

Covering his mouth to suppress a grin, Dick shook his head, "They can't drink or eat anything," he corrected. "Mom, Dad, this is Alfred Pennyworth. Butler extraordinaire and the ultimate gentleman's gentleman."

Alfred extended his hand to Mary, then realised and cleared his throat, "It's lovely to meet you both. Now, whom do I have to blame for the horror that is your son's troublesome sense of humour?" He glanced aside at the smirking Dick. "Ultimate gentleman's gentleman_._ _Honestly_."

Mary thumbed towards John, "_That is entirely my husband's doing_–"

John let out a mock cry of shock as he interrupted, "_Oh? And I suppose everything good about him is from you, right my Romni_?"

Mary lifted her chin and smiled, "_Naturally. It's lovely to meet you, Mr Pennyworth. And I hate to be a bother, but would you mind terribly if I saw any photo-albums or portraits of my son you might have?_" She inquired. Alfred smiled under his thin moustache.

"I would be delighted. I'll go fetch them now, Mrs Grayson," Alfred removed his half apron and nodded towards Dick and John, before turning and leaving the kitchen; sparing a quick glance over his shoulder at the entities with a heavy sigh, before continuing on his way.

"The things that happen in this house. _Honestly_…"

Smiling over at the departing Alfred, Dick walked over to the other side of the kitchen to get a dustpan and brush, returning to sweep up the broken crockery. "Alfred loves any excuse to drag out those old albums," he mentioned to his parents, who were perched up atop of a couple of stools.

John nodded and his gaze fell around the kitchen, "_This kitchen is bigger than our entire trailer is–was_." He corrected, as Mary brushed her hand against the black and white tiled breakfast bar. "_This manor's interior must be enormous._"

Dick shrugged as he stood up from his crouched position and walked over to the cabinet where the trash-bin was hidden, "It's big, but most of it is rarely used. Bruce doesn't have many guests; and the parties are mostly held on the ground level and outdoors." He poured the broken cup and teapot into the bin and shut the door,

Hooking the dustpan and brush back on its holder, Dick looked back over at his parents who were eyeing him steadily, "What is it?" He queried.

John thumbed towards the kitchen entry, where Alfred had recently exited, "_I realised something. Your Mr Pennyworth just said: 'The things that happen in this house,' like seeing spirits was just adding to the list. What did he mean by it, Richard_?"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, "Err…"

A chiming sound from the speaker above the kitchen door sounded, interrupting the moment.

"Ah!" Dick clasped his hands together, "That's the front doorbell. Alfie's busy, so I'd better go see who it is. You two just stay here…um, read the paper or something. Relax. I'll be right back," he gestured towards the kitchen exit and quickly made his getaway from his raised browed parents.

-xxx-

Rushing down the manor hallway, Dick skidded to a halt in the entrance hall, feeling like an eleven-year-old again. Catching a breath, Grayson squared his shoulders and realised two things before he moved across the velvet carpets to open the door.

One, that the comm unit in the kitchen hadn't buzzed, asking for the gates to be opened for admittance.

So two, there might be sizable danger behind the door.

Unlocking and opening up the right-side, heavy wooden door slowly, Dick stood in prepared stance just in-case of hostility; but smiled broadly as he recognized the tall, broad, bespectacled, trench-coat wearing man on the doorstep.

"Clark! Hey, how are you?" Dick greeted, holding out his right hand as the older man grasped it tightly.

"Dick! Well this is a surprise!" Clark Kent, (the adopted name of the alien Kal'El; who was known to the rest of the world as the Man Of Steel, Superman,) greeted his close friend's protégé. "It's been a while. I've been meaning to pop down and visit you one of these days in Büldhaven."

Stepping aside to let Clark in, Dick smiled, "You're totally welcome to. And yeah, it's been a while," Dick shut the door behind Kent and folded his arms, "I think you still had long hair," he pointed out, leaning against the closed door.

Clark smiled and pointed back at the younger man, "So did you. I've been looking for Bruce, but he wasn't 'downstairs'," he looked around the quiet entrance hall. Dick straightened and sided up beside the reporter.

"Is it urgent?" Dick questioned.

Kent shook his dark haired head and turned his bespectacled gaze aside to Dick, "Not really. It could be, though." He mentioned, strolling over to the right-hand banister of the huge stairway.

Dick nodded, "Bruce is in Metropolis of all places," he smiled at Clark's roll of his eyes. "He still doesn't let you know when he's in your town, after all these years?"

Clark chuckled, "Not since you were in short-pants, Dick. I'm glad to see you here, though," he commented, leaning his arm across the stairway banister and looking seriously at the erstwhile Nightwing. "Does this mean you two have finally patched up?"

Dick shrugged and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, "You know Bruce. It's like talking to rock some days. I know he hears everything, but," he shrugged again. "You know since Jason's death he built a hell of a brick wall. Tim and I have only just started to crack through it, again."

Clark leaned forward, "He doesn't say it often enough, but he needs you all. You know that," he pointed out gently, "Bruce isn't the loner he pretends to be. You know that better than I, Dick. He is for all intents and purposes, your father."

Dick pulled out his hands from his pockets and sighed heavily, folding his arms across his chest, "I know. And I'm more like him than I can ever admit most days," he trailed off when he noticed Clark staring straight past him.

Turning around, Dick saw John Grayson standing off to the side, looking at him with an expectant expression and the younger Grayson smiled quickly.

"Dad, this is Clark Kent. He's a close friend of Bruce's and practically my Uncle. Clark, this is my father, John Grayson." Dick introduced, sending a quick look to Clark, letting him know that his father wasn't aware of their secrets.

Clark walked over and smiled, lowering his spectacles slightly –as Dick knew, scanning John to check to see if he was a genuine spirit– before pushing them back up. "It's– it's– it's nice to meet you." Clark raised his voice as he easily slipped into the role of stammering, shocked reporter.

"Gosh – um, you must be so proud of Dick. I've –-I've known him since he was about this high," he measured from his waist down. "He– he's become a fine young man." Clark cleared his throat and wrung his hands.

John blinked and nodded, "_Thank-you. I'm sorry if I startled you, Mister Kent, but after Dick spend out of the kitchen like he did, my wife insisted I had to check on him,_" he replied, glancing aside at Dick, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty at leaving his parents in the lurch.

Clark smiled, "Well that is nice. I mean – well, gosh, look at the time," he glanced quickly at his watch, before motioning to the door. "I'm so sorry to be so curt, but I have to catch the next flight back to Metropolis." He headed towards the door and Dick followed after him.

Opening up the door, Clark leaned toward Dick's ear as he half-stepped out, "Do you want me to forewarn Bruce about your visitors if I run into him?" He queried in a whisper.

Dick shook his head, "I think it would be better if I break the news to him, whenever he returns," he hissed back. They both straightened and Clark waved over to John.

"It was really nice meeting you, Mister Grayson. I'll see you sometime soon, Dick," Clark squeezed the younger man's shoulder, before darting off and Dick waved off Kent, before shutting the heavy door behind him.

Strolling over, Dick smiled at his father as he passed him, "That's Clark. Don't worry, I asked, but he won't tell anyone," he mentioned as John followed after him. "I've known him practically all my life, like I said, he's pretty much one of my Uncles. Bruce has known him for a very long time."

John nodded, "_I see. Anymore like him_? _Not in the least bit concerned so much that he's seeing a ghost, but instead that he's being curt_?"

Dick laughed loudly, "Ha! No, Clark's pretty much a one-of-a-kind. He has a cousin, but Karen is _totally_ another subject." He revealed.

The elder Grayson raised an eyebrow, "_I see. But I really meant if you had any more close foster-family friends, who are more like relatives?_"

The young superhero rubbed the back of his neck, "A few. There's Diana Prince, Dinah Lance, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, K– Arthur Curry," he corrected himself. "Most of the guardians or relatives of my close friends I regard in that capacity."

John nodded and smiled, "_I'm glad. I always wanted you to have a large family, I'm only ever sorry you didn't have a little brother or sister_," he said as they entered the kitchen, where Mary was pawing through the stacks of photo albums with Alfred.

Dick folded his arms, "I have Tim now, plus I grew up with a really close-knit group of friends," he stared poignantly at his father, _This charade is getting harder and harder_. "I'm okay Dad. I promise you, I grew up okay."

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><p><strong>The next chapter will be along as soon as it's completed. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please, let me know what you thought of it if you like.<strong>


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N**: _Thank-you for all the reviews! (I've replied to everyone as best I can. If I missed you last time around, I'll reply back this time.)_

_I hope you enjoy the next part of this story._

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

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><p>…<strong>T<strong>hat's Master Richard after he won the Gotham Academy swimming championship backstroke; and that's him with his schoolmates after winning the team freestyle," Alfred pointed out the photographs on the album page as John and Mary leaned over his shoulder. "And there he is with Mistress Barbara at their Junior Prom."

Dick smiled behind his mug of coffee as his mother let out a sigh of endearment. They'd been a good three hours piling through the 'safe' albums Alfred had kept meticulously over the past fifteen years or so. Dick had made himself a quick sandwich and was now nursing raisin tea-cakes and coffee, while Alfred narrated through his childhood and teenage years to his parents.

"_He looks so handsome. Oh…who are the young people with you here, Richard_?" Mary inquired and Dick got up from his stool to lean over his mother's shoulders, as Mary pointed at a series of photographs on the opposing pages.

"Those are my best friends. That's Donna, Roy, Wally and Garth," Dick pointed out his casually dressed former teammates. Dick, Roy and Garth were holding up Donna while Wally posed in front of them, all five of them in swimsuits and posing on a California beach.

There was a buzzing sound from the intercom and Alfred put down the album and walked over to check the code, "It's Master Bruce. Perhaps you'd like to go meet him first, Master Richard?" He suggested.

Dick chewed his lower lip and looked between his parents, thinking about what Clark had said. "No…no, I think maybe if Mom and Dad came with me it might be best," he replied, Alfred nodded in understanding and John and Mary both got to their feet.

"_I agree. I remember meeting Mister Wayne that night of our last performance,_" John narrowed his brown eyes. "_He seemed rather…elsewhere. I just assumed it was his reptation as a playboy gadjo, annoyed at having to attend a family circus instead of a nightclub_."

Motioning to his parents, Dick lead the way out of the kitchen and John, Mary and Alfred followed him out, "That's not really who Bruce is at all. It's a cover because of the circles he's always moved in. Gotham isn't the nicest city in the world, even for the upper-class." He revealed.

"Master Bruce is classically educated, worldly and serious; not just some rich playboy." Alfred added gently, "I can assure you that Master Richard was never exposed to any scandalous, or overtly age-inappropriate, scenarios during his years under this roof."

Dick winced inwardly at the easy way Alfred embellished the truth, but, then again, Bruce was a ladies man despite his solitary nature, Dick was secretly thankful for the years he watched his guardian easily woo the most beautiful woman in the room practically all the time.

Not that Dick would be telling either his father or mother about that, even under duress.

Mary nodded, "_I'm grateful to hear that, Alfred. Richard might be grown now, but I'm still a concerned mother as to his growing up_," she said firmly, glancing up at her son, "_I know there's some things I'll never be privy to, but you must promise to tell me some of them, Richard_."

Dick nodded and smiled, "Of course, Mom. You don't know how good it is to be able to do that," he longed to wrap his mother in a hug, but had to settle for reaching out his hand to her and Mary matched his gesture. "Whatever you want to know, I promise I won't lie."

The moment was interrupted by the open of the right-side, heavily carved entrance door and Bruce Wayne, dressed in his usual designer, black suit. Dropping his briefcase to the ground, the broad-shouldered head of _Wayne Enterprises_ loosened his Windsor-knotted, dark blue tie and glanced over at Alfred.

"Alfred. Could you bring–" he looked over at Dick, smiling thinly, "–Dick? What brings you here this late at night? Is something…" Bruce trailed off when he noticed the semi-transparent, apparitions, standing on either side of his former ward.

Dick motioned between his parents, "Bruce, I think you remember my parents, John and Mary Grayson. Mom, Dad, you also remember Bruce Wayne, my former guardian," he re-introduced.

Bruce looked over at Dick again, raising an eyebrow in the silent code they'd developed over fourteen years. Dick knitted his dark eyebrows together and nodded seriously, Wayne then quickly inclined his head and smiled kindly over at John and Mary.

"Well…this is slightly out of the ordinary, but it is good to see you after all of these years, Mr Grayson; Mrs Grayson," Bruce folded his arms over his chest and put a perfect mask of apprehension over his features. "Is there–I mean…why are you here, if I may enquire?"

Receiving a fully detailed explanation of the day's events from the Graysons, Bruce nodded seriously, glancing aside at his former ward every so often in deep thought, before looking solemn as the tale came to an end.

"That certainly is a strange series of events. And you do think preforming once again with Dick should allow you to move on?" Wayne questioned, again turning attention to Dick; who was leaning his arm against the stairway banister, chewing on his lower lip.

John nodded, also looking over at his son, "_I believe so. Richard's girlfriend, Barbara_–"

Bruce looked surprised, "Barbara _Gordon_?" He questioned, looking over at Dick, who gave him a small smile in response. Wayne tilted his head slightly and shook it, smiling to himself.

"–_yes. She_ _believes it to the best option. Although she said there may be another," _John finished, taking Mary's hand, not entirely sure if he liked the fatherly way Bruce smiled at Dick when he heard about Barbara. _Richard is my son. I don't care if Wayne has had more years with him._…

"Perhaps we can continue this conversation somewhere more seemly." Bruce's smooth, deep voice interrupted John's thoughts. "Alfred, could you escort Mr and Mrs Grayson to the sitting room down the hall. I need to speak to Dick privately if I may; then we'll join you both."

Mary glanced aside at her only child, "_Richard_?" She questioned and Dick nodded.

"It's all right. I'll see you in a minute," Dick assured his parents, who nodded and moved to follow Alfred out of the entrance hall. John glancing behind quickly as he did so, noticing the immediate stiffness of posture arising both in Bruce and Dick as they began to talk.

-xxx-

Dick looked solemnly, slightly up, at his former guardian. "Bruce. They don't know about anything. I've managed to keep it from them up till now."

Bruce folded his arms across his powerful chest, "I could see that for myself, Dick. For one thing, they weren't accusing me," he raised his eyebrows. "This is a strange turn of events. How are you feeling?"

Grayson rubbed his upper arms, "Shocked. Angry. Frightened…everything I've felt from the moment my parents crashed to the centre ring right and up until this point about their passing. They're here again, like I wished and prayed for so many nights." Dick reached up to rub his eyes.

"But they're not here. Not really– they don't belong here anymore. I accepted that I couldn't ever see them again when I was ten years old. Now they're right beside me, talking to me. Planning a routine for us, the Flying Graysons."

Bruce watched as the younger man paced up and down, wringing his hands before pushing them through his lanky hair.

"All the same memories; the expressions on their faces…except I only feel a cold shiver, instead of a warm touch, when my Dad rests his hand on my shoulder. And I can't even embrace my Mom," Dick slumped down on the bottom step. Resting his face in his upturned hands. "I never could have planned for this. Nothing ever prepared me for _this_."

Bruce sat down beside Dick and rested his hand on his former ward's shoulder, "I know what your going through. I can't say I haven't thought about the possibility of my parents coming back to existence; and what I would say to them." He furrowed his brow. "But I could never think of how I could ever explain what has happened in my life, over the past thirty years."

Dick raised his face from his hands and glanced aside at Bruce. "How do I cope if I have to let them go again, Bruce?" He whispered the question so quietly, the Dark Knight of Gotham barely heard him.

Pulling away his hand resting on Dick's shoulder, Bruce put his hands on his knees and exhaled thoughtfully. "Hnn. I don't think I have an answer for you Dick. I'm not quite sure how I'd act either in your position." Bruce replaced his hand back on his former ward's shoulder.

"I think you need to go get some air. Go see Barbara now. Alfred and I will see to your parents for tonight." Wayne insisted, narrowing his steel-blue eyes.

Dick sighed heavily and gave Bruce a half-smile, "Is that an order?"

Allowing himself a small smile, Bruce got up, patting Dick's shoulder as he moved away, "Yes, old chum. That's an order." He replied, thumbing towards the kitchen. "I promise Alfred and I will say nothing, we'll leave it up to you to explain to your parents. Go now."

Making a mock salute, Dick got to his feet and walked passed Bruce, "Oui, mon Capitaine," he said with a sigh, stopping briefly to turn around and half-grin at his former partner. "Just so you know, Babs is refusing to make anything official, so it's not and you didn't hear anything from me."

Bruce sighed heavily and folded his arms over his chest, "You two only make things more difficult for yourself. Why can't either of you two be honest about these things? You've been going around in circles for years." He rolled his eyes.

Dick pointed defensively at his chest, "Hey, I've always been honest to Babs, _she's_ the stubborn one and you know it," he turned on his heel and continued to stroll away. "And I wouldn't be one to point fingers, Bruce. How is Selina Kyle these days, hmm? Or are you still trying to figure out Talia al Ghul's 'agenda'?"

"Brat!" Bruce called out and Dick just waved his hand dismissively as he disappeared down the hall, smiling to himself.

"You've been spending time with Carter Hall again, haven't you?"

-xxx-

"_Richard? Richard?"_

Dick sleepily opened up his eyes with a groan and loosened his grip slightly around Barbara's waist, as he rolled over to see a pair of familiar, intent, transparent brown eyes –dimly glowing in the otherwise darkness of the small apartment– looking down at him.

"Dad?" Dick whispered, glancing across the sleeping form of Barbara at her alarm clock. It was just past four a.m. "What is it? Is something wrong? How did you get here?"

John's eyes narrowed as he pulled back, "_Everything and nothing. But, mostly, everything_." He answered in that achingly familiar roundabout way Dick had missed so much. "_And I walked here. You know us Rom, we like to walk. Can we talk, Richard_?"

Dick nodded, "Sure," he let go of Barbara and the young woman mumbled slightly in her sleep as she rolled over. Gently pulling aside the sheets, Dick swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boxer shorts. Pulling them on, the young vigilante then reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, realising his mistake at the last second when he heard a sharp intake of breath from John.

Turning around slowly as he got to his feet, Dick held out his hands, "Dad, I can explain–"

John stepped forward and stared at the scars criss-crossing over his only son's well defined chest, only slightly less rampant than the ones he'd previously been privy to on Dick's back.

"_Richard…these scar_s…_so many_…_they're years old_," John swallowed hard, reaching out with a transparent hand to point at a circular, long healed scar just above the younger Grayson's heart. "_That is a bullet wound. And there is another here." _He stepped back and placed his hands on his face.

"_What have you done, Richard? Oh, what have you done?"_

All the fear of how his parents would react crept up upon Dick once more, now being faced with his all but weeping father; and the young man had to fold his arms across his bare chest, to prevent his hands from shaking, _Oh My God_… "Dad, I–" he tried to talk again and John lowered his hands from his face.

"_No. I'm going to speak,_" the spirit of John Grayson interrupted slowly. "_I didn't want to believe it. I've spent the past four hours, wondering around after leaving that manor –pleading to God like I haven't done in years– that it wasn't true_."

Dick lowered his arms defeatedly, "How…how did you find out?" He managed to form the shaky enquiry.

John pointed to the balcony adjoining the bedroom, (the doors open to allow the cool, summer night breeze to waft through.) "I_ don't wish to wake up your girlfriend, come_," he motioned, gliding away from his son and heading out of the bedroom.

Dick sighed heavily and followed his father, joining him outside on the simple apartment balcony, over looking the dark skies of early morning Gotham, the cityscape still lit up with thousands of lights. There was so little noise of traffic, that the sound of the _GCPD_ blimp could actually be heard nearby, making its rounds.

Leaning his arms across the balustrade, John was staring out at the cityscape and Dick mirrored his father's pose, waiting for the spirit to begin explaining.

"_I was never a good child, Richard," _John began slowly. "_I ran away from my family when I was fifteen years old to join the circus. I'd had ancestors and living relatives in the business, but your grandfather and your grandmother didn't want me to follow them. They didn't want me to be a 'clown'. I was the first in our family to attend school regularly, you see? They wanted me to be someone respectable."_

Dick had never heard his father talk about anything to do with his past, and he'd never thought he would ever, after his parents had passed away.

"_I didn't listen. I ran away and joined up with the first circus I came across. I'd always had a natural talent, your Great-Grandparents had been a trapeze artists; and their parents before them; and so on. For at least half-a-dozen generations, it runs in our blood. I took my Great-Grandfather's name, which I translated to 'Grayson'." _John lowered his gaze down to his ghostly hands.

"_I went home only once, when I was only a year younger than you are now. When I was going to marry your mother. I wanted–_" John took in a deep breath, "_–I wanted to show them, that I had made a good life for myself. I was world-renowned. I was going to marry the most beautiful woman in the whole world."_ He narrowed his brown, semi-transparent eyes.

"_My parents wouldn't see me. They said they knew no-one by that name and had my cousin send us away. They left your mother and I standing on the doorstep, rain pouring down and no one else would take us in for the night, by the order of my own mother and father._" John glanced up and aside at his son.

"_I made a vow that moment, that if ever I was to have a child, no matter what they did or didn't do, I would never hold it against them. As long as I breathed, they would always have place to call home and a place in my heart_."

Dick rubbed his hand over his eyes, wiping away the threatening tears, "Dad. I– never planned what happened. I was…" he almost laughed painfully, "…only a kid…"

"_How long_?" John questioned stoically. "_When did it begin_?"

Raising his blue eyes to gaze slightly down at his father's spirit, Dick swallowed hard and rubbed his mouth, "The moment you and Mom hit the ground. I'd seen Zucco and his lackeys lurking around Pop Haley's trailer, making threats. Remember that I was trying to tell you something important before the performance?" All the anger and resentment from fourteen years came rising up to the surface.

"I should have begged harder for you two to listen, for Danny, Har…anyone to just check those cables and the ropes," the tears began to roll down Dick's face. "It wasn't enough. _I_ wasn't enough."

John reached out his hands, then pulled them back, "_It is my fault, Richard, I never really listened to you. I…" _he turned his head, _"…I hardly ever spoke to you outside of training or preforming. Not really. I thought…"_ the Grayson patriarch shook his head.

"…_I thought I had all the time in the world, when you were older. When we could have real conversations. Not realising that I could have talked with you at any age. I always put the preforming first and you and your mother second. I'm the one who's sorry." _

Dick wiped his eyes and leant back over the balustrade, "It's all right. I've spent most of the last fourteen years with someone who hardly ever spoke, even when we were training." He assured his father.

"If not for Alfred, Babs and my friends, I would have gone mad. But Bruce did something more for me than talking. He helped me channel my rage and anger to help others and prevent my own personal sorrow from happening to someone else. He gave me a purpose after so much tragedy."

John nodded slowly and glanced away, "_It was an accident, how I found out, Richard. Your mother and I were looking over the albums with your butler friend_–"

"Alfred." Dick interjected with a small smile, remembering his father's perfect memory; and tendency to deliberately shorten names to hurry up whatever story he was telling.

"–_Pennyworth, ye_s, _ I remember. Anyway, your Mister Wayne had excused himself about an hour before, because he said he had some work to finish. He came back in afterwards and asked Pennyworth to assist him. Pennyworth followed Wayne out and I decided to leave your mother and go exploring, which Wayne said I was free to do." _

John folded his ghostly arms across his chest, "_I was passing through the hallways, when I heard Wayne and Pennyworth talking. I made myself not visible to them and watched as they all but ran past. 'Sir,' Pennyworth questioned, 'are you quite sure you don't want me to call up Master Timothy or Master Richard for backup?'_

'_No, Alfred,' Wayne said, 'I'll contact them myself if need be. I'm going to need to assess the situation at ground-level first.' He and Pennyworth darted into a room and I followed them. It was a study, and I watched as Wayne pushed aside a grandfather-clock , revealing a secret passage with a staircase, like something out of a Gothic movie. I waited for both Wayne and Pennyworth to enter and then I followed at a good distance behind them. 'You look troubled, sir. And I sense it's not about the mission.' Pennyworth said as they went down the stairs._

'_Astute as always, Alfred. The Graysons, Dick's parents…I've had nightmares for so many years about them judging me for the way I raised Dick. My own parents sometimes appear and start arguing with them…then Jason…' Wayne and Pennyworth continued talking as they reached the bottom of the stairs and headed towards that monstrous computer._

"_I was going to hear more of their conversation, but I was distracted by that cavern. It's incredible. All those cars, machinery and technology everywhere. A giant penny of all things; a large 'Joker' card hanging from the rafters and a huge dinosaur–"_

"It's a robot, you know?" Dick interrupted, fond of the massive, green t-rex and trying to find a way to lighten the mood. He could so rarely talk about anything to do with the Batcave with anyone outside of the superhero community.

"Bruce had it brought into the cave for me. It was from one of our first assignments; and to this day I don't know how he got it and the Giant Penny down there. I can't tell you the amount of times we nearly got bowled over, moving that big old coin."

John cleared his throat, "_Yes. Well, I also noticed an assemblage of glass cases that lead into a separate area away from the computer and all those cars. I saw props, carefully labelled with names like 'The Penguin' and details of cases. Then I saw the Robin costumes, Dick, in the red, yellow and green we preformed in, with the high-cut leotard style you wore. They get progressively bigger, up to the size of a man." _The spirit took in a shaky breath.

"_One of those Robin outfits, the first one, was so small. A child's costume…but it wasn't a costume, it was a uniform. How old were you?"_

Dick swallowed hard, "I…I was almost ten." He admitted. "Dad, Bruce didn't want–"

"_I knew then." _John continued, ignoring his son's attempts to explain_. "I didn't want to believe it, but it was yours. They __**all**__ were up until the dead boy wore the one you did in your early teens. I saw another man's uniform there, after the Robin uniforms; primarily blue, with an acrobat's collar, like the ones I wore as a younger preformer; and the ones your mother and I wear–wore, during the super-circus shows. _

"_There is a another uniform with gliding yellow wings; then finally a black costume with a blue winged motif. I assume that's what you wear now. Nightwing, is what they call you, correct?"_

Dick nodded, "I…I borrowed the name from a Kryptonian story Superman told me as a boy," he murmured, trying to hold himself together. _I never thought how painful this would be explaining to my parents…I thought they'd be on the other-side, watching over me. Seeing everything as it happened and understanding… _

"_Naturally," _John replied, a note of sarcasm in his lightly accented voice. "_I saw pictures of the Justice League of America; amongst the other photographs of The Batman and his Robins, Batgirls…Bat-hound?"_

Dick nodded and looked sheepish, "My dog, Ace. I was thirteen, having a dog in a mask, riding shotgun with Bruce and I in the convertible Batmobile, seemed like a cool idea at the time. You would have loved Ace. He was this _big_ German Shepherd we…" he trailed off when he saw his father clearly still looking solemn. "…sorry. Go on."

"_The dead boy. The one who came after you as Robin,_" John mentioned suddenly. "_How did he die_?"

Dick hesitated and then pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "Jason. His name was Jason Todd. He was killed in a foreign country –trying to protect his own mother, who he never knew abandoned him and betrayed him– he died wearing the mantle I created. He was fourteen. Just a boy who was another needless victim of a madman's insane, continuing vendetta…" Dick took in a shaky breath.

"It never stops haunting me, Dad. Not just Jason's death. Any young partner who dies… because, you see, _I_ was the first. They all followed my lead." The younger Grayson rubbed his eyes, "I even ended up becoming their very first leader, the Teen Titans founder." Dick let out a small, sardonic laugh.

"I spent my teenage years leading and planning battles against demons and monsters with a teenage army…I was a general before I could even shave."

"_I'm sure it didn't take too long, Romanians aren't exactly slow developers when it comes to hair,"_ John interjected lightly, and Dick lowered his hand to see his father actually sporting a small smile. "_I'm beginning to see the real you, now, Richard. The man whom you've grown to become. And I'm not exactly sure how to feel about that. But," _ he stepped forward. _"you are always my son, and I love you. I need you to be honest with me and–"_

"Dick?"

Father and son turned to see Barbara –wearing her green satin robe– had wheeled herself over to the balcony entrance and was holding a cordless phone handset in her right hand; keeping her left hand gripping on her chair's left wheel to steady herself.

"John," Barbara greeted in surprise, before turning back to Dick and holding out the transmitter. "It's the boss, hon. You're needed. Full arsenal."

Dick nodded his head and turned to his father, "I have to go, Dad. We can–"

"_I'm coming with you._" John interrupted bluntly, gazing steadily at his son.

Pursing his lips, Dick knew that John was going to have a war of words with Bruce sooner or later, at least this way Dick could be there to intervene if necessary. "All right." Dick moved back into the apartment and looked around for his uniform.

Finding the Kevlar suit in the corner on top of his other clothes, Dick pulled it on hurriedly and zipped it up in the front. Barbara had wheeled herself back into the room, John following beside her.

Dick walked over to one of the closets in the bedroom and opened it up, reaching up behind the right door's latch, he pressed a button and a hidden panel was revealed. Dick grabbed a -pair of gauntlet gloves and a pair of heavy-duty boots. Pulling on the boots and then the gloves, Nightwing reached in and pulled out a pair of escrima sticks.

Slipping them into the holder on his back, Dick then grabbed his mask from one of his suit's hidden pockets and turned around, "Dad, whatever you do, _don't_ intervene, please. I've been doing this practically all my life," he requested.

John inclined his head, but said nothing. Dick raised his right eyebrow, but said no more as he put on his mask and walked over to Barbara.

"I'll be back soon as I can," Nightwing kissed her gently and Barbara pulled him into a quick hug before letting him go.

"I'll be watching," Babs let her lover pull back and she kissed his cheek quickly. "Go get 'em, Hunk-wonder."

Dick laughed and tapped Barbara's nose, "Not in front of my Dad, Babs, please?" He teased and Barbara shoved him away, turning to smile up at John.

"I'm sorry if I think your son is handsome, John."

The elder Grayson cracked a smile, "_He should be very thankful about that, Barbara_," John replied with a raised brow at his son.

Dick rolled his eyes and motioned to his father, "We gotta go. Later, beautiful," he waved to Barbara and John repeated the gesture as he followed his son out of the bedroom and back onto the balcony.

Dick flipped over the balustrade and landed on the fire-escape, "Sorry, Dad, gonna have to make this quick," he mentioned, preforming several flips down and then sliding down the ladders, till he reached the alleyway; where he'd stashed the '69 Harley Davidson.

John joined his son on the ground and looked over at the vintage motorcycle, "_No fancy-shmancy bike this time_?" He questioned, and Dick shook his head.

"Just a classic. I restored this one the summer when I was sixteen, I think," Dick mounted the bike and reached for the 'R' logoed helmet. "Couldn't find another helmet, but sometimes it's nice to play 'Teen-Wonder' for the evening."

John mounted the bike behind his son and Dick pulled the helmet, "' '_Teen-Wonder' ? You let people call you that?" _ He actually laughed and Dick joined in.

"Well, they had to call me something after I hit puberty. Boy-Wonder no more, the fabulous Teen-Wonder to the rescue," Dick started up the bike and kicked up the brake-stand. "I tell you what, though, I was nineteen when I finally became Nightwing. It was a long time to go around in a short-cut leotard, I was going to have to start shaving my legs."

John chuckled, "_I noticed that in the photographs. I particularly liked the ones of you and Barbara…she __**was**__ Batgirl, wasn't she? I recognized the red hair._" He mentioned and Dick inclined his head. "_You were very cute…although, I've got a few questions about that golden girl you were dating, back when you were with that group of yours_–"

Dick revved the motorcycle engine of his bike, "Sorry, Dad, we gotta go." He yelled out, cutting off his father before they got into a discussion about Koriand'r. The cycle sped off out of the alleyway and Dick heard a crackle in his mask communicator as Barbara began to talk.

"_**Corner South Hampton and Meyer boulevard, Dick. I told the big guy you're on your way."**_

-xxx-

Screeching the cycle to a halt, Dick whipped off his helmet and took a flying leap off the motorcycle and into the melee going on in the middle of the alleyway outside of a basement building, burning up in a fire that had smashed the glass.

Whipping out his escrima, Dick preformed a round-house kick as he landed, knocking out the nearest goon and locating Bruce, fighting off about three thugs hand-to-hand.

Easily slipping into the age-old-practice, Dick found a way –kicking and beating– to be back-to-back with his former mentor and partner. "What's the sitch? " Nightwing questioned over his shoulder, knocking back a goon with the butt of his right stick.

"Drug runners. Tried to shut down it down, place caught on fire. Melee." Batman replied curtly. "Manoeuvre six."

Dick inclined his head and leapt up into the air, placing a hand on Bruce's cowled head as he flipped backwards, "Allez-oops!" He called out, bringing down both feet into the chest of the massive, muscular goon in front of Bruce. The huge guy letting out a yelp of pain as the wind was knocked out of him; and Nightwing whacked him into unconsciousness with a blow of his right escrima.

The rest of the gang was quickly subdued; and the GCPD and the Gotham Fire Brigade arrived a few moments later to take care of the rest of the situation.

Commissioner Jim Gordon approached Bruce and Dick, "Right, details." He demanded of Bruce, who filled Gordon in on what had been going down, while Dick stood just off to the side. Folding his arms, Nightwing glanced aside at where, at the entrance of the alleyway, John was standing away from the cycle, staring over at him in disbelief at what he'd just witnessed.

"So, son," Gordon's kindly voice interrupted and Dick glanced down at the Commissioner. "Back in Gotham for good, or is this just a stop-over?"

Dick smiled, "Just visiting, sir. Don't think I'll be donning canary yellow capes, or pixie boots, again in this lifetime," he winked and Commissioner Gordon laughed.

"You make me feel old, kid. Your partner seems to stay exactly the same, however," Jim glanced aside at Bruce. "How is it that we all seem to get older and you don't?"

Batman smirked, "Now if I told you how I do it, Jim, you'd quit the police game and start up a business based around that knowledge; and I would have to start breaking-in a new Commissioner. Think of the hassle you'd be causing me." He mentioned and Jim rolled his eyes as Nightwing hid a smile behind his hand.

"Your youngsters are suppose to be the one who crack the jokes around here, Batman," Gordon waved his hand as he turned to walk away. "Don't quit your day job, if you even have one, that is."

Dick turned to Bruce after the Commissioner was out of earshot, "My Dad wants to talk to you," he whispered, pointing over at where John was standing next to the motorcycle, his position unchanged since the last time Dick had glanced over at him.

Bruce stared over at John Grayson, then back down at Dick, "Right. You want to come back in the Batmobile?" He questioned and Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We'll take the bike back and we'll meet you in the cave." Dick looked back up at Bruce, "I don't know if I should have let my Dad come along. I think it might have made things worse."

Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder, "Don't make such harsh predictions yet. We just need to sit down and let your parents know everything." He squeezed his former ward's shoulder and Dick smiled a the familiar motion. "It's only right they should know about your life."

Nightwing nodded, as The Batman turned his gaze back over to John briefly, before turning and walking the distance over to the Batmobile, "Right. See you there."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck as he walked past the throng of police and emergency workers, nodding briefly to Renyee Montoya; the Latino police lieutenant nudging Harvey Bullock. The corpulent detective glancing aside at Nightwing as the vigilante walked past, shoveling another handful of potato chips into his mouth.

" 's ain't your usual beat nowadays, Nightbird." Bullock ventured, his voice half-muffled by the mound of potato-chips he was munching. "Things getting too tough in the 'haven?"

Nightwing waved his hand, "Nice to see you too, Bullock. Hello Montoya." He greeted and Renee nodded, folding her arms over her chest.

"Nightwing." The GCPD lieutenant replied stoically, half-smiling at the vigilante. "You're lucky I don't arrest you for indecent exposure. Your costume gets tighter every time I see you."

Dick let out a small laugh, "You're a tease, Montoya. If I were your type we would have been married a _long_ time ago; and we'd have half-a-dozen raven-haired lieutenant-vigilantes."

Renee pointed her finger at Nightwing, "You'll keep, pretty-boy. Even if you were my _type_, I'm not sure if I'd give you the time of day, considering you want six children, garoto." She dismissed, walking away and motioning to Bullock, who rolled his eyes.

"You're still a menace, Mightwing," Harvey left the parting remark for Dick, who just smiled broadly and waved as the cops departed.

Turning around, Dick finally managed to get back over to his ghostly father, who was gazing at him solemnly. Wordlessly, Dick mounted his bike and glanced behind at John Grayson. "I'm–"

"_Just take me to talk to Wayne, Dick. And I think it would be best to tell your mother at the same time_." John interrupted bluntly, getting onto the bike behind his son.

Nodding, Dick kick-started his bike and kicked up the brake.

* * *

><p><strong>The next chapter will be along very soon. Thank-you for reading.<strong>


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